


Shadow in the Rocks

by w_k_smith



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/F, F/M, Queer Character, Slow Burn Romance, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2019-08-18 18:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 26,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16522181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/w_k_smith/pseuds/w_k_smith
Summary: Europe is ravaged by a zombie apocalypse, and Lena Oxton fights alongside the rest of Watchpoint to find a solution to the undead threat. When a dangerous and mysterious sniper is captured by Watchpoint, Lena's world, life, and heart are transformed...but not without a price.





	1. Shadow in the Rocks

Lena Oxton thought the weather was too pretty for the apocalypse. She was running from the barracks to the meeting hall, within sight of the fence surrounding Watchpoint. Dark shapes shuffled back and forth along the wood and wire. On a windy day, their empty moans carried across the settlement. Today, the air was cool, crisp, and still, the sky was cloudless and sunny, and Lena could even hear birds singing. Why did the dead have to rise on nice days?

The zombies had been stomping through Europe, and most of the rest of the world, for five years. Five years of chaos, fear, and nightmares filled with dull grunts, ragged fingernails, and the thick stench of death. But at least everyone got nice weather now and again.

The meeting hall was on the other side of Watchpoint from the barracks. The hall was a plain, circular building, one room except for the basement, with a collection of mismatched benches and chairs in front of a blackboard.

Lena’s old commanding officers had told her _Watchpoint is the place for you, Watchpoint may be one of the world’s best chances_. They hadn’t told her how much Watchpoint was like its own meeting hall: cobbled together. When Lena had been packed off to Watchpoint last year, she’d been told she’d be working under the American Commander Morrison, and had assumed the whole place would be U.S.-run, maybe in one of the old military bases. She was used rigid structure, orders and ranks and need-to-know bases.

But Watchpoint turned out to be a loose collection of, well, _everyone_. There were people there from all across the globe, from an older German man who stomped around in a suit of armor and hit zombies with an oversized hammer, to McCree, the American who wore his cape and ammo belt everywhere he went. Half the settlement wasn’t military at all.

Lena dropped onto a bench. Someone dropped right next to her, heavier and harder.

“ _Privet_ , Lena, do you know what we’re afraid of today?” Lena turned to see Aleksandra Zaryanova sitting up next to her. Aleksandra was very big and very Russian, with taught biceps, pink hair, and an easy smile.

“I think it’s still zombies, luv,” Lena said, smiling back.

Aleksandra gave her a playful elbow. “Come on. Like Morrison hasn’t told you. Everyone knows you’re his favorite.”

“He _hasn’t_ told me. And Commander Morrison doesn’t have favorites.”

Aleksandra opened her mouth, probably to keep teasing, but was interrupted by the sound of a sharply cleared throat.

“ _Raiders_.”

Lena turned to face the front. Commander Morrison had entered when she wasn’t paying attention and was now standing with his arms crossed, back against the blackboard. His scarred face and permanent black visor gave him a perpetually cross look. The look had scared her, in the beginning.

“Raiders,” Commander Morrison repeated. “A gang of them has set up shop just a few miles down the road. They’ve struck travelers three times already, and right on our doorstep. We aren’t going to let that stand.”

Lena nodded. A few meters away, though, Ana Amari gave Commander Morrison a strange look with her one eye. Ana Amari had a gruff air about her, what with the eye patch and no-nonsense attitude, but she was good company. She was friendlier than Commander Morrison, and knew him better than anyone else at Watchpoint. Lena couldn’t decipher Ana’s expression, but hoped it didn’t mean they were in any more danger than Commander Morrison was letting on. The Commander wouldn’t do that to them, would he?

Hm. Maybe this wasn’t so different from being in the Royal Air Force. The brass kept their cards close to their chests and grunts like Lena had to do their best with the info they got.

“I’m taking six of us out on a Trojan Horse mission,” Commander Morrison said. “Ana will be my second in command. Oxton, Zaryanova, you’re coming, too.” He pointed at Lena and Aleksandra. “Dr. Ziegler?”

Dr. Angela Ziegler stepped forward. As usual, her pants and shirt were spotless white – somehow.

“I know I can’t ask you to take part in any combat, but I’d like you to stay close by,” Commander Morrison said.

“Of course,” Dr. Ziegler said.

Dr. Ziegler was Watchpoint’s top medic, come to them by way of Switzerland. Dr. Ziegler also had a face and smile that made Lena want to jump into her arms and seek immediate medical attention. But Lena was trying to be professional about that.

“And Hamada,” Commander Morrison said.

Dr. Ziegler’s husband, Genji Hamada, nodded silently. Lena felt Aleksandra stiffen next to her. Genji Hamada gave Aleksandra the heebie-jeebies. Though Lena couldn’t relate, she knew why. When in mixed company, Genji hid his face under a full-cover helmet and kept the rest of his body under wraps. Three of his limbs were prosthetics, designed by his wife. Lena wondered how much of him was missing all in all, but thought it would be rude to ask. And part of her was afraid to know.

“The mission starts in one hour exactly. Meet by the gates. Don’t be late,” Commander Morrison added. Lena would have never considered it.

 

Lena’s boots thudded on the dirt road running through Watchpoint, raising little clouds of dust. She was a little early, but Commander Morrison, Genji, and Dr. Ziegler were already near the gates. A horse was hooked up to a cart, one of the carts used to move supplies around Watchpoint. This particular cart, however, was empty, with a blanket stretched over the top to hide the fact.

The steel gate rolled up and down like the entrance to an old castle. Who was up on the tower today? Fareeha? The thick metal of the gate should have been comforting, but the back of Lena’s mind screamed that it was weak and flimsy. A zombie, with stringy hair and a dress that had once been green, threw itself against the gate. Its rotting arm reached through the lattice, and it was making a low, gagging moan. Lena looked away from the zombie and smiled at Commander Morrison.

“Oxton,” Commander Morrsion said to Lena in greeting. He had even more ammunition that usual on his bandolier, and he was wearing his dark jacket, not his red-white-and-blue one. That meant business.

“It’s good to be working with you, Lena,” Dr. Ziegler said. Something fluttered in Lena’s chest.

“I’ve heard promising things,” Genji said. He had his katana strapped to his back. “You are from England, yes?”

“Royal Air Force. She was Cadet Oxton up until a year ago. The best loan we’ve gotten from the Brits in years,” Commander Morrison said.

There was a chance he meant it more as a dig to the UK military than as a compliment to her, but, blimey, that was high praise coming from him. Lena scratched the back of her head. “Less of a loan, more of a baby on a doorstep,” she said.

“What’s this about a baby?” Ana asked as she walked up to them, her rifle over her shoulder.

“Lena is comparing herself to one,” Genji said.

“I wouldn’t give a baby that kind of firepower.” Ana pointed at the holstered pistols on Lena’s belt. “My own girl had a dangerous temper, even when she was in diapers.” She shaded her eyes at the guard tower set into the fence, and waved.

Aleksandra jogged up to them. Her painted-pink shotgun was on her back, in its sling. “You weren’t waiting on me, were you?” she asked.

Commander Morrison grunted, which Lena guessed was a no. “First things first,” he said. He reached for the radio on his belt. “Lúcio?”

“On it!” came the response from the radio. Far along the fence, a figure with dreadlocks moved back and forth, the sun glinting off the ancient boom box Lena knew Lúcio carried. The distant noise of Brazilian pop music reached the gate, but the real audience was the zombies.

The walking corpses turned their heads as soon as the music started blasting. They liked noise, and Lúcio could play them like a fiddle. Lena felt her shoulders relax as the zombies plodded away.

“Raise the gate,” Commander Morrison said into the radio, and a few seconds later, the barrier creaked upward.

 

The sun climbed higher and higher in the sky, cutting Lena’s shadow short. The cart rumbled over the road, which used to hold cars and lorries. But the cars and lorries had been pushed off onto the shoulder a while ago, any undead occupants mercy-killed. The vehicles were rusting now, with weeds poking through their tires. At least Lena couldn’t hear any moans.

As the miles went on, Lena found herself struggling to contain her nervous energy. She wanted to run ahead of the cart but it wouldn’t do much good to tire herself out, or to get herself in trouble with the rest of the team too far behind to help.

Commander Morrison and Ana walked in silence next to the horse. Dr. Ziegler and Genji trailed behind the cart, talking quietly between themselves. Aleksandra sat on the edge of the cart, shifting back and forth every couple of minutes. She didn’t seem to like the quiet.

“Why even bother raiding?” she asked. “If there was a time for humanity to be united, it’s now. Why waste time killing and robbing other people when the zombies are out there?”

“I suppose some things don’t change,” Lena said. “But at Watchpoint we’re working together, aren’t we?”

Aleksandra grunted.

“Tell you what, when we see the raiders, I’ll let them know Aleksandra Zaryanova doesn’t approve of their life choices.”

“It would be appreciated,” Aleksandra said, the corner of her mouth twitching upward.

“Stay alert, you two. We’re coming up on the location.” Commander Morrison pointed a short way down the road at a rocky slope rising up through the trees, covered in crags and moss and short stretches of dying grass. “This mountain is supposedly the raiders’ ambush point.”

Dr. Ziegler gave a delicate snort. “Pardon me, Commander, but that is not a mountain.”

“Sorry, Doctor, but the apocalypse might keep us from visiting the Alps,” Commander Morrison said.

“Mountain snobs,” Lena muttered, and Aleksandra started laughing.

“Now, now, children,” Ana said.

“Yes, children,” said an unfamiliar female voice from behind Lena. “Look alive.”

Lena whirled around to find herself facing a woman with brown skin, purple hair, and a wicked smile. The woman tiled her head, and pointed a stubby gun in Lena’s face.

“Down!” Aleksandra shouted. She threw herself off the cart and knocked Lena out of the way just as an explosion of gunfire burst over their heads.

Lena managed to stay on her feet, and turned just in time to see Aleksandra throw a punch at the purple-haired woman. The woman twisted, turning a blow that should have knocked her on her ass into a glancing hit. The woman drew another gun, one barrel pointed at Lena and the other at Aleksandra.

“Well, you _certainly_ came prepared.” She had a thick accent that sounded like her mother tongue was Spanish. Lena couldn’t place the exact country. “And Ogundimu said you’d be a – ah!” The roar of a shot. The woman howled and staggered, and a dark stain of blood welled up on her shoulder.

“Quiet down, now,” Lena heard Ana say. Ana still had her rifle raised, pressed into her shoulder.

The purple-haired woman scowled. In one fluid motion, she holstered her guns, plucked something off her belt, and smashed it on the ground. Lena had half a second to realize the gun trained on her had been lowered, and then the world disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

The smoke bomb wasn’t as acrid as smoke from a fire, but Lena gagged on her first lungful. As she ran out of the cloud, she heard Aleksandra coughing. When her vision cleared, the purple-haired woman was, of bloody course, nowhere to be found.

“Eyes up!” Commander Morrison barked. “Everybody regroup!”

Lena ran to Commander Morrison’s side, with Aleksandra right behind her. Genji strode with smooth purpose, both of his swords out.

“Is anyone hurt?” Dr. Ziegler called.

“Unbroken,” Aleksandra said, swinging her pink shotgun off her back. “She will not get away again.”

Then two things happened at the same time: a thundering shot rang out, and Aleksandra screamed.

“ _Bozhe moi!_ ” She clutched at her hip. Blood gushed through Aleksandra’s fingers. The right leg of her fatigues grew wet and dark.

“Don’t worry.” Dr. Ziegler jumped over the cart. As soon as her boots hit the ground, another shot rang out, sending up a spray of asphalt from the road.

“Sniper!” Ana swung her rifle upwards. Lena saw movement in a shadow in the rocks on the mountain, and Ana fired.

Lena went to Aleksandra’s side, and let Aleksandra lean on her. She supported her as they ducked around the other side of the cart.

“Is it bad?” Lena asked. Her chest was tight with worry.

“I don’t know…” Aleksandra held up both hands, two masses of red. “I cannot feel the pain yet…”

“It’s going to be alright, Aleksandra.” Dr. Ziegler swooped down and knelt by Aleksandra. She pressed a bandage to Aleksandra’s wound, nodding at Lena. “I will take care of her. If you need to get back in the fight, go.”

Lena hesitated.

Aleksandra gave her a weak smile and waved a hand. “It’s a flesh wound. Go!”

As much as she hated to leave her friend bleeding on the road, Lena didn’t want to have five friends bleeding on the road. She drew her pistol, and peeked over the edge of the cart. The unseen sniper fired again, shattered the pavement near Ana.

“Strewth!” Lena whispered. But she had an idea now.

She holstered her pistol, left cover, and bolted for the trees at the foot of the mountain. She serpentine, hoping the sniper would be too distracted to pay attention to her and take a shot. Still, tense awful anticipation burned her skin. Any second, she might feel her body rip and break around a bullet. Worse, she might suddenly feel nothing at all.

Relief flooded Lena when she entered the tree cover. The ground was steep and uneven, but Lena was in good shape. It had been a few years since the Royal Air Force put her through the Basic Training wringer, but she had always whizzed through the obstacle courses. Besides, climbing over the rocks and fallen logs reminded her of hiking in the Lake District with her family, a lifetime ago. She had been fast back then, too. She had a good sense of direction. So long as the sniper didn’t move or run away.

Lena saw a figure through the trunks. She was close to the sniper’s perch, but she was about to lose tree cover. Hesitation wouldn’t help her hear. She circled around and drew her sidearm, stepping out from behind a trunk.

And there was the sniper, standing on a small cliff. The shooter was a woman, with long purple hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had grey pants, a cropped shirt that had somehow stayed white during the apocalypse, and a long white rifle.

“Drop it!” Lena yelled. “Put your hands up, right now!”

The sniper turned around. She was pale – Lena had seen livelier skin on zombies – but even from a short distance Lena could see a cold spark in the woman’s eyes. The sniper threw down her rifle, but instead of surrendering, she picked up a grappling hook and tossed it at a cliff behind her.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no….” Lena didn’t want another raider to get away. She ran at the sniper, threw herself forward, and knocked the woman to the ground.

It was like tackling a panther. The sniper wasn’t a large woman, but she was all muscle, lithe and powerful. Lena fought to keep from being thrown aside, holding on with every violent jerk of the sniper’s body. Lena had made a terrible, stupid mistake – tackling a woman who could still be armed, while holding a gun herself. Lena had to make sure her mistake wasn’t costly, deadly.

“Stay down!” Lena barked. She pressed her gun against the sniper’s forehead, praying she wouldn’t have to pull the trigger. But this woman had shot Lena’s friend, had tried to kill their team, and may have killed other people walking this road. _Our world is more brutal than it used to be_ , Commander Morrison had once said.

The sniper relaxed in Lena’s grip. “Is this what you want to do?” She had a low voice, and a heavy French accent. “Take me hostage? Talon will give you nothing.”

“What’s Talon?” Lena asked, but before she could get an answer, Commander Morrison, Ana, and Genji burst through the trees.

“Well done, Oxton,” Commander Morrison said.

“Are you hurt?” Ana asked.

Lena shook her head and stood up. She lowered her weapon, but didn’t take her eyes off the sniper. Lena picked up the sniper’s rifle, which was still on the ground at the edge of the cliff, and put the sling over her own shoulder.

The sniper didn’t take her eyes off of Lena. “You don’t know it yet, _cherie_ , but you’ve doomed half a dozen lives.”

Lena opened her mouth to ask what the sniper bloody well meant, but was interrupted.

“ _Amélie_ ,” Ana said. Her tone was not that of surprise, but grim resignation.

The sniper pursed her lips and did not answer, but her silence and quick glance away spoke volumes.

“What’s going on?” Lena asked. “Commander, _who is this_?”

Commander Morrison said nothing. His visor made his expression impossible to read.

“Cuff her, Oxton,” he said at last. “Let’s get back to Watchpoint.”

He threw a pair of handcuffs to Lena, and she noticed her hands were shaking as she caught them.

 


	2. Old Friends

The return to Watchpoint took longer than it should have. Aleksandra insisted on walking, while Dr. Ziegler insisted Aleksandra needed to sit in the cart. For most of the trip back to Watchpoint, Aleksandra proudly marched under her own power while her bandage seeped blood, and Dr. Ziegler massaged her own temples in obvious exasperation.

Lena couldn’t stop staring at the prisoner. Amélie, if that was her name, sat with rigid posture in the cart, her hands cuffed behind her back. Every so often, her narrow, cat-like eyes, slid over to Lena, and Lena had to look away. She felt Amélie’s gaze, though, sharp and searching, and goose bumps prickled her arms. Maybe Amélie was angry that Lena still had her rifle.

When Watchpoint appeared on the horizon, Commander Morrison drew up next to Lena. She got nervous, wondering if the Commander was going to reprimand her for something she’d done wrong on the mission. For the longest time, though, the Commander said nothing.

“You did good work today, Oxton,” he said.

“Oh! Thank you, Commander Morrison,” she said.

“We can’t exactly hide the fact that we took a prisoner,” Commander Morrison continued, “but I’d appreciate if you treated what happened today with as much discretion as possible. Some of us at Watchpoint have a personal history with Amélie.”

“Of course, sir,” Lena said, automatically more than anything. She hesitated, but Commander Morrison was pleased with her. She could risk a question. “Does it have something to do with…Talon?”

Commander Morrison paused before answering. “Yes,” he said.

“And what is Talon? If you don’t mind my asking, sir,” she added quickly.

An even longer pause. The gates drew closer, and Lena could hear the distant sound of Lucio’s music, drawing the zombies away in anticipation of the team’s return.

“All information on Talon is currently classified,” Commander Morrison said at last. “And that information – there’s a chance it might not even be true. Whether it is or isn’t, spreading it around would be dangerous.”

Lena nodded. “I understand.”

“I’d tell you if I could, Oxton.” Commander Morrison sounded uncharacteristically weary.

“I understand.”

“I want you to accompany me when we take the prisoner to her cell. Is that something you think you can handle?”

“Yes.”

“And Oxton – is there some way you could get Zaryanova to listen to Dr. Ziegler?” He nodded at Aleksandra, leading the way despite the slight limp she’d developed. “Or listen to anyone, for that matter?”

“Better people than me have tried, sir.”

 

Watchpoint wasn’t set up to hold prisoners. Watchpoint had less than fifty people, hand-picked as a special force to clear zombies out of the region. It wasn’t like other settlements that had hundreds of people, with fights and theft and all the crimes that didn’t go away when zombies wrecked civilization.

The admin building did have a few holding cells, in a dank and tiny basement. Commander Morrison and Ana escorted Amélie into the smallest of the cells, with Lena bringing up the rear in case Amélie tried to run. Though she’d be awfully daft to try to flee Watchpoint, what with having to go through the zombies without her rifle. Still, when Amélie was locked inside the cell, Lena’s shoulders relaxed.

There was a few seconds of long, sharp silence. Amélie’s eyes weren’t on the Commander, or Ana, but on Lena. Lena’s insides squirm under the sniper’s sharp gaze, but she put on a brave face. Lena couldn’t help but notice that Amélie was beautiful – not in a warm and friendly way like Dr. Ziegler, but in a dangerous way, like a frozen mountainside or an elegantly crafted weapon. A shiver ran up Lena’s spine, and she was annoyed when she realized it wasn’t altogether a bad shiver.

Finally, Ana spoke. “Amélie. My God. I have no idea where my questions should begin.”

“I know right where to start.” Commander Morrison took a step toward the cell. “Where is Talon’s base?”

Amélie’s eyebrows arched “Taking me from Talon was a mistake,” she said. “When I don’t return, they will ensure others suffer.”

“Is that a threat?” Commander Morrison asked.

“It was a threat made to me.”

“You said that before,” Lena said. Ana gave her a questioning look. “She told me the same thing when I captured her. She told me I’d doomed half a dozen lives.”

“Hm. Retained your flair for the dramatic, I see,” Ana said, nodding at Amélie.

Commander Morrison crossed his arms. “You need to start giving us some answers. Where is Talon?”

Amélie pursed her lips. “That is not a question you want answered, Jack.”

“ _I’ll_ decide that.”

“Imagine I tell you what I want to know,” Amélie said. She laced her long, graceful fingers together. “Imagine you find what you’ve been looking for. If Talon holds the secrets you think they hold…what could you possibly do about it?”

Commander Morrison didn’t respond. One hand clenched in a fist at his side. “We’ll give you some time to come to terms with your limited options,” he said.

He turned and left the little holding area, hanging the cell’s keys on a hook on the wall and gesturing for Lena and Ana to follow him.

“You two should get some rest. I have to brief the rest of Watchpoint,” Commander Morrsion said, as they climbed out into the dying sunlight.

“What will you tell them?” Ana asked.

“The truth,” he said. He didn’t look at Ana, or Lena. “We found the group that was attacking travelers. We took a prisoner. We’re holding that prisoner for more information.”

Ana pursed her lips as if she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. Commander Morrison jogged away.

“Walk with me, Lena,” Ana said, when the Commander was out of earshot. “But please don’t expect me to run with you; my knees can’t take it.”

They walked toward the barracks in silence for a little while, then Ana spoke up.

“Amélie used to be one of us,” she said, with no preamble, like it was a simple piece of information. _I think it’ll rain tomorrow. Hana wants to organize a game night. The murderer we captured yesterday used to be our friend._

“Was she at Watchpoint?” Lena asked.

Ana nodded. “We were a smaller operation in the early days. A few of us old-timers. Some who are no longer with us. Amélie came with her husband, Gerard Lacroix. He was the fighter, and Jack thought he’d be with us for the long haul. She had been a dancer, before – well, _before_. She always struck me as a sweet enough woman, though she was reserved, somewhat. Then one day she disappeared.”

That took Lena by surprise. People didn’t _disappear_ when zombies surrounded them – or, at least, they didn’t turn back up alive.

“She and Gerard went on a scouting mission,” Ana said. “They didn’t come back. They were…seeing about another settlement that may not be too far from here. We assumed the worst, of course, and had to act as if they were not coming back.” She was quiet for a while, and Lena wondered if she was done speaking. “Gerard’s body was dumped at our gates two weeks later. No wounds, except a single bullet to the head. We had no idea what happened to Amélie. And then we started hearing rumors of a graceful female sniper.”

And then she _was_ done speaking.

Lena cleared her throat. “Do you know why she–?”

“No. Nobody has any idea what caused her to become what she has. That’s part of why this has been such an ordeal. It’s one thing to be betrayed. It’s another to not know where the betrayal came from, or if it could happen again.”

“Christ…” Lena muttered.

“I’m not trying to burden you, but you’re involved in this now, and it’s best you have all the information we can give you. You can handle this, yes?”

“Of course, Captain Amari.”

“Will you take our prisoner a meal tonight and tomorrow morning, please? I’m not asking you to do any interrogating, but if she says anything of note, let Jack or myself know right away.”

Lena nodded. “Absolutely. What could be easier?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to get a new chapter of this up every Sunday. Aaaaand I'm already late. Whoops. Anyway, thanks for reading!


	3. Sneak

Watchpoint did as little work as possible after the sun had set, nothing other than night watch duty. No one wanted to be outside when it was dark, because Watchpoint didn’t have electricity to spare on streetlights, and if a zombie broke through the fence you’d be tussling with the undead in pitch black. Lena didn’t want to make a big deal about going to see Amélie, so she went to dinner in the mess hall at the usual time, but excused herself early so she could make it to the holding cells before dusk.

Lena grabbed a tray of food as she walked through the kitchen, and carried it to the admin building. As she walked alone down the dirt path, she realized how completely _knackered_ she was. All the bruises on her body throbbed, and her muscles kept up a dull ache. When she leaned against the door to the holding cells, she felt every point of impact from where she’d tackled Amélie, and let a little groan pass through her lips.

“ _Mon dieu_ ,” Amélie said. Lena saw her go from lying on the cell bunk to standing on her feet in one fluid motion. For the briefest moment, Amélie’s eyes were wide with alarm, but as soon as she saw Lena she relaxed. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Flattering, that is,” Lena said. “I brought you some food.” The keys to the cell were hanging on a hook on the wall, but Lena wouldn’t need them to give Amélie the food. She walked over to the cell held the tray to the slot on the cell door. Amélie hesitated, then took the tray, the silverware rattling on the plastic. Amélie flicked her long purple hair over her shoulder and sat back down on her bunk to eat.

Lena knew it wasn’t her job to ask the questions, but there was one she had to address. “How d’you get your hair to stay like that?”

Amélie paused, the spoon in her hand hovering over the beans and cooked vegetables. “Excuse me?”

“You can’t tell me people are making hair dye in the middle of the zombie apocalypse.” Lena was no expert on hair care, of course. Her hair had been short, brown, and tousled her entire life. She had never ever never had to shred any school pics of herself sporting a pink undercut and ripped tights.

Amélie shrugged and dipped her spoon into the food. “Well. When there are enough chemicals around…you can make do.”

“Chemicals?”

But Amélie kept picking at the meal, like she hadn’t heard Lena. Lena shrugged, and left her alone.

 

Lena woke up at dawn. She pulled on her clothes and boots, and was about to leave her room when she stopped and ran a comb through her hair. Amélie may have been a representative of a nasty organization like Talon, but Lena couldn’t have her thinking that they were sloppy here at Watchpoint.

She snagged a tray from the mess hall and went to the admin building, thinking she’d feed Amélie before sitting down with her own meal.

“Rise and shine!” Lena sang as she pushed through the door. However, as soon as she got a good look at the room, she knew something was wrong. The cell Amélie was supposed to be in was empty, the door hanging open. Amélie was nowhere in sight.

Lena swore loudly, set the tray on the floor, and ran into the cell to see what had happened. The keys were off the hook, on the ground next to a…bent spoon?

She snatched them up. The spoon was hooked through the key ring, tied with a few long purple hairs.

Lena remembered Amélie’s grappling hook from the day before, swore again, and mentally kicked herself as she ran back out the door. _It was just a spoon_ , she’d thought to herself yesterday. _What trouble could she get into with a spoon?_

A lot of bloody trouble, that’s what.

Lena sprinted down the road, and forced her thoughts to slow and gather into an orderly line. The biggest question was, could Amélie have left Watchpoint by now? From a timing perspective, she could have. Lena estimated Amélie had taken a couple hours at most to get the key to her cell. But could she have made it out the gate?

Probably not. Amélie was sneaky, but she wasn’t invisible. She wouldn’t have been able to raise the gate without the night guards’ noticing. And she couldn’t have made it over the fence somewhere else, considering the rest of the perimeter was crawling with zombies.

Amélie was still in Watchpoint. Spying, hiding, waiting to sneak out when someone else went through the gate, who knew? But Lena had a chance to recover her.

Her boots pounded the road. She went back to the barracks, and grabbed her field kit and sidearm. She should have sounded the alarm. But that would have taken time, and let the rest of Watchpoint in on Amélie’s presence. There was a ladder bolted against the outside of the barracks, and Lena climbed it.

Lena had made a mistake. So she’d fix it.

On the top of the barracks, Lena took out her binoculars and did a sweep of the rooftops. She’d done her share of guard duty and knew what the roofs of Watchpoint looked like. There weren’t many, and the barracks, the tallest building, offered a view of most of them. Including the ones that were decently out of sight of the guard towers.

Lena frowned so deeply it hurt her face. Wait – here we go. A slight lump she was sure hadn’t been there before. On top of the mess hall.

Her pulse quickened. She’d been right under Amélie ten minutes ago. Most of Watchpoint was there right now. God only knew what Amélie had planned.

Lena climbed down from the barracks roof and ran to the mess hall, her mind racing. When she was close, she forced herself to slow down, though it ached to do so, ever muscle and instinct in her body yelling at her to hurry up.

She walked into the mess hall, gooseflesh rising at the idea that Amélie could be staring at the top of her head. Aleksandra was sitting at a table with Lucio, Aleksandra gesturing broadly with her spoon while making some kind of point, almost flinging oatmeal into Lucio’s face.

“Aleksandra! Lucio! Hiya!” Lena said, trying to sound as cheerful as usual, like a line of nervous sweat wasn’t flowing down her neck and back. “Could the two of you do me a favor?”

 

Lena wanted to fly. She had wanted to fly when she was tiny service brat, looking at old photographs of family members standing next to helicopters and jets. She had wanted to fly when she enlisted as a teenager, enduring the brutal tests and training because she knew she’d end up in a cockpit. She had wanted to fly every time she lowered herself into a cockpit, knowing the sum of her life and experiences had led her hear, with the power to defy the speed of sound and spit in the face of gravity.

She still wanted to fly, every time she her heavy boots hit the ground, every time she tasted dust in the stuffy air, every time she looked at the sky and realized how far out of reach it was, 100 meters overhead.

Lena knew Watchpoint’s work was important. She still counted the days since she’d landed there, since she’d watched her jet be emptied and broken down for parts, the fuel too precious to justify the craft’s continued existence.

She climbed hand over hand on the ladder to the top of the mess hall, ladders and watchtowers being the highest she went these days. Her arms ached, and sweat beaded on her brow, and she let herself resent her situation. Just a little bit. Just until she reached the top.

“ _Aaaaaaah! Bozhe moi, ya v takoy grobanoy boli!_ ”

Aleksandra was screaming her lungs out. The sound bothered Lena, though it was part of the plan, and fake as plastic plant. She hoped Amélie didn’t realize either.

Lena drew close to the top of the ladder. She wasn’t tired, but she was apprehensive. She had the tight, nervous feeling of knowing that a fight was coming.

She threw herself on top of the mess hall. Amélie was kneeling on the roof, her head tilted toward the front of the building, where Aleksandra was yelling. Lena got her feet under her, drew her sidearm, and shouted “Get down!”

Amélie turned her head to look at Lena. “Ah. You figured out I was missing.”

“ _Finding_ you was the harder part.”

“And I wish I could have hidden better,” Amélie said. “But Watchpoint has changed since I left.” She turned around, and sat on her heels. She wasn’t getting down, but she seemed to be calm and unarmed, so Lena didn’t push the issue. Lena also didn’t lower her gun.

“You need to come back to the cell with me,” Lena said. She wanted to sound in charge and imposing. She wasn’t used to giving orders, and she knew she wasn’t a particularly scary-looking person.

“You have to let me go.” Amélie spoke quickly and quietly, with that low, mournful voice of hers.

“I can’t do that Amélie.”

“Please. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Was that she was worried about? “No one is going to hurt you here. We won’t let Talon get in, and certainly no one from Watchpoint is going to–”

“I am not talking about me. I’m talking about the test subjects. I misbehave, they die. Violently. For no reason.”

Lena frowned. “Test subjects?”

Amélie shook her head. “You have no idea what Talon is, do you?”

“No. I don’t.” Lena lowered her gun and held out her hand. “Why don’t you tell me?”


	4. Shake

Lena crossed her arms against the cold and damp of the holding area in the basement of the admin building. Ana was on her left, and Commander Morrison was on her right. Lena realized she _should_ have been satisfied. She’d made a mistake, but she’d fixed it. Amélie was back in her cell. The keys were kept far out of reach. So why was Lena just as nervous as when they’d first brought Amélie in?

Telling Commander Morrison what had happened had been a real trial. Lena felt like a little kid wanting to hide the fact that she’d gotten her muddy shoeprints on a nice couch. Speaking to her own reflection in Commander Morrison’s blank visor.

“And Zaryanova is fine?” he’d asked once she explained herself.

“Yes, sir. I just wanted Amélie distracted while I got onto the roof. I told her to pretend to go outside and pretend to be hurt. I wasn’t expecting her to use that many Russian curse words. Or English ones.”

Commander Morrison grunted. “And Amélie…she said she’s ready to talk?”

“She did, sir.”

“I want you to be in there with us.”

“Oh? I mean – of course.”

“She may be opening up to you. I don’t want to surround her with old, intimidating faces and have her clam up. I trust you, Oxton.”

But standing in front of Amélie’s cell, Lena didn’t feel ready, or trustworthy. Amélie didn’t seem upset to be behind bars again, though she hadn’t spoken since Lena brought her down from the mess hall roof.

Commander Morrison gave Lena a small nod, telling her to begin. She hesitated for just a moment, her mouth dry.

“Amélie,” she said. “I think we all know you can’t go back to Talon.”

Amélie stayed quiet. But that wasn’t disagreement.

“You’ve said that Talon has threatened you to stay in line,” Lena continued. “That they threaten the lives of test subjects if you don’t cooperate. That’s not an, uh, sustainable situation. If they devalue life that much, they were going to kill those subjects anyway. And one day they’ll make the decision to dispose of you.”

It sounded like something Commander Morrison would say. Lena couldn’t have claimed to be comfortable saying it herself. She had been trained as pilot, and now she ran – literally – supply and protection missions while cutting through load of moaning zombies. Lena didn’t interrogate people. Or tell them a secret organization had probably decided to kill them.

“But Watchpoint is willing to do what we can,” Lena said. “We’ll take down Talon and we’ll put our best effort into rescuing anyone who needs rescuing. But you have to give us the information we need. You have to open up to us.”

Amélie’s jaw tightened. Lena saw Amélie’s fingers clench around the edge of the bunk, curling until the knuckles turned white. She stared straight ahead, and to an outsider she might have seemed stoic. But Lena could sense the storm going on inside Amélie, could hear and see thunder and lightning churning over choppy waters.

“Please trust us,” Lena said. “Please trust _me_.”

Amélie tilted her head to the side, her expression not changing. Then in one motion she stood up and stepped closer to Lena.

“Talon is an evil greater than any I’ve ever seen,” she said. “Most of the people within their walls care nothing for other humans, except as lab rats and cannon fodder. They will punish and torture anyone who gets in their way. Talon is without heart, without morals, and are responsible for the death of our world.” She drew in a deep breath. “They are the reason the dead walk among us.”

Lena made her best scoffing noise to let Amélie know Lena wasn’t as gullible as that. “I thought you were ready to be honest, luv.”

“Oxton,” Commander Morrison said, “she is.”

“What?” Lena knew it was unprofessional, but she glanced over her shoulder. Commander Morrison had his head tilted to one side, and Ana was frowning. “Do you mean Talon spread zombies to this region?” she said, turning back to Amélie.

Amélie shook her head. “They created this plague, Lena. They made Patient Zero, whoever they were, and set the poor monster loose on the world.”

“The question, dear, is what you can help us do about it,” Ana said.

Lena had forgotten how standing worked. She concentrated on staying upright, even as her legs went wobbly and seemed to have disconnected from her ankles. She didn’t want to look shaken and vulnerable, even though she was.

You asked twenty people why the zombies had come around, you got twenty-five different answers. The wrath of God, Big Pharma putting nanobots in vaccines, sunspots, pesticides, violent video games… In the early days of the zombie horde, Lena had kept a mental note of every theory she heard, and kept a tally of which ones had the most evidence to back them up. Within weeks, the theories became white noise Lena tuned out or else she’d go insane. Who was Lena to say what was evidence for or against Mother Gaia rebelling against polluting humans, or an alien virus carried by a meteor? This was just the new reality, as chaotic as it was.

It wasn’t that Amélie blamed Talon – had blamed _anyone_ – for the zombies. It was how Ana and Commander Morrison had accepted what Amélie said. That meant Amélie was telling the truth, or something that stood a good chance of being the truth.

Lena tried to get her head back on straight, metaphorically. “Well, this is good news,” she said, forcing a bit of cheer into her voice. “You can’t fix a problem unless you know where it came from.”

“Yes,” Amélie said. “But this is _Talon_. They will not be put down easily.”

“So we make a plan. We go after them,” Lena said.

Commander Morrison grunted. “I like your spirit, Oxton. But that’s easier said than done. And it’ll be even harder to do without Amélie’s full cooperation.”

“If Watchpoint challenges Talon in a way they find more than merely annoying, they will destroy you. And then they will punish me. And they will continue to poison the world.”

“What happened to Gérard, Amélie?” Ana asked, her words sudden and sharp.

Amélie was silent.

“We deserve an answer,” Ana said.

Amélie stayed quiet. She looked away from Ana, staring at absolutely nothing on the floor.

“It doesn’t sound like you joined Talon willingly,” Lena said, breaking the silence. “They hurt you, didn’t they? Made you do things you didn’t really want to do? I thought you wanted to help us.”

Amélie fixed Lena in a studying gaze.

“I’ll help you,” Amélie said at last. “It will go poorly.”

“We’re living in the apocalypse,” Commander Morrison said.

“He has a point,” Lena said. “We’re pretty used to ‘poorly’ around here.” She gave a wry smile. Amélie responded with the barest twitch of her own lips. So she wasn’t immune to humor.

“Ana, I want to confer with you upstairs,” Commander Morrison said. “Oxton, make friendly conversation. See if Amélie suddenly remembers anything we should know.”

 

The basement was too empty and too quiet when Lena and Amélie were alone together. Lena dragged a chair next to the cell, and sat on it cross-legged.

“I do want to help you,” she said. “I’m not sure I like you, because you shot my friend, but I also don’t want Talon to get their sniper back. And, you know, if you were forced to help the people who brought zombies into existence…no one deserves that. No one.”

Amélie lay down on the bunk.

“It’s strange to think you knew Commander Morrison and Ana before I did,” Lena said. “Bet the Commander was always the same. I think he was born a fit, grumpy, 70-year-old.”

Lena caught Amélie’s lip twitch again.

“I know you don’t really know me,” Lena said. “But I’d like you to trust me. We both want the same thing, don’t we?”

Amélie’s trace of a smile disappeared.

“There’s good people here, at Watchpoint. An impressive lot. Weird, but impressive. Taking down Talon might strike you as a suicide mission, but Watchpoint has the kind of people in it you don’t mind doing impossible things with. You don’t get here if you’re the type of person who gives up. I’m not giving up on you, Amélie.”

Lena reached her arm through the bars and extended her hand for a shake. “Work with me?”

Amélie appeared to consider. Then she grabbed Lena’s hand and gave it a single powerful shake.


	5. Going Above Ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is late and very short. What a responsible writer I am.

Lena was nervous, for so many reasons. She walked down the stairs to Amélie’s holding cell, worried – as always – that Amélie would have escaped again. She worried Amélie wouldn’t like the Commander’s decision. She worried no one _else_ would like the Commander’s decision. Lena didn’t even know if she liked the Commander’s decision.

“I’ve got good news!” she announced. “You’re getting out!”

Amélie was already standing, waiting for Lena. Lena had expected her to have a stronger reaction to the news, but she only tilted her head.

“Out of the cell?” she asked. “Or out of Watchpoint?”

“Just the first, I’m afraid,” Lena said. “But the Commander said you’re allowed to join the general population. And we’re due at a meeting in a few minutes, so let’s enjoy your freedom in a lively manner.”

Lena unlocked Amélie’s cells, and Amélie crossed her arms, one eyebrow raised.   

“And how do you think the rest of Watchpoint will respond to my release?” Amélie asked.

“Ah, well, they know you’re coming,” Lena said. “Some aren’t pleased. But no one’s going to jump you. They’re too afraid of the Commander.” She gave what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “You can stick by me.” She cleared her throat. “If, erm, that makes you feel more comfortable.”

Amélie didn’t say “yes” or “no,” but she stepped out of the cell.

 

It was deeply strange, being outside in Watchpoint with Amélie at her side. Lena kept glancing at Amélie out of the corner of her eye, trying to gauge her reaction. Lena wasn’t a body language whiz, though. And these surroundings were familiar to Amélie too, after all.

“They are all in there,” Amélie said, inspecting the façade of the admin building.

“Well, they’ll be in trouble if they aren’t.” Lena silently wished for the ability to say or do something to make this transition easier. “Speaking of which – let’s go on in, yeah?”

Lena and Amélie went into the building together. Watchpoint was assembled, waiting for the Commander to arrive. Genji and Dr. Ziegler sat in quiet conversation by the window, Hana and Birgitte had just broke into laughter at the front of the room, and Lúcio looked like he was explaining something to an exhausted Fareeha.

“You don’t know many of the people here, do you?” Lena asked.

Amélie shook her head. “We were a smaller operation before I – when I was here.”

“I’m guessing you want to stick to the back. There’s space for two on that bench over there.” Lena pointed.

Amélie slid her gaze to Lena. “You don’t have to sit next to me. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Suit yourself, love. I’ll just take a seat right over there on the back bench. Take your chances with someone else if you’d like, just be warned that Mr. Wilhelm doesn’t hose the zombie brains off his armor that often.” Lena waved her hand in front of her nose. “The smell is awfully pungent when–”

“Your point is made.”

They sat on the bench. Amélie, so close to the other personnel, set her mouth in a hard line and stared at her feet.

The bench shook and almost tipped like a seesaw as Aleksandra dropped onto it, right next to Lena.

“ _Privet_ ,” she said. “How are you doing this morning? You didn’t lose track of the prisoner again, did–?”

She leaned around Lena. Her eyes fell on Amélie, and she started. “Is that–?”

“The Commander says she’s allowed out now,” Lena said. “It’s – fine.”

“Fine?” Aleksandra asked. She pointed at her side, where her bullet wound was. “Remember how she shot me?”

“I _can_ hear you,” Amélie said.

Aleksandra leaned around Lena again. “OK. Remember how you shot me?”

“Everyone.” Commander Morrison had walked into the room without Lena notice. He stood at the front with Ana, arms crossed, visor especially opaque that day. “It’s time to get started.”

Aleksandra scowled deeply, but kept quiet.

“There is a threat on our doorstep that goes beyond the undead,” Commander Morrison said. “They call themselves Talon. And they are why Watchpoint is here.”


	6. Shadows in the Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey...it has been a while...

Lena tried to be quiet, but her boots crunched leaves and twigs underfoot. Amélie walked as silently as a cat, stepping lightly over nettles and leaves. The sun was still working its way toward the horizon, but in the woods it was further into dusk. Wind blew through the trees, but it was warm. The evening could have been pleasant, but Lena’s eyes and ears were pricked for the walking dead.

“How are you holding up?” she asked Amélie in a low whisper.

Amélie shrugged, but didn’t say anything, which Lena decided to take as positive. Amélie had been very quiet since Commander Morrison had assigned them this scouting mission.

Lena wanted to say something comforting, wanted to tell Amélie they didn’t have to do this, but of course they did. Commander Morrison wanted to strike at Talon as soon as possible. They needed to put eyes on Talon’s base.

“Are we still going in the right direction?” Lena asked.

Amélie nodded.

“Then let’s –”

Lena was interrupted by a cross between a moan and a growl, reverberating through the trees from somewhere to her right. She held her binoculars to her eyes and found the zombie, 50 meters away. The zombie shuddered through her view. The greasy hair that hung over its face almost hid its wrinkled grey skin.

“Don’t worry,” Lena said. “I’ve got my sidearm, and a knife. I can take this one out.”

“It’s far enough away,” Amélie said. Her voice was sharper than usual. “If we keep moving, it should not be a problem.”

“Oh. Sure thing.” Lena stashed her binoculars, and she and Amélie walked farther into the woods, taking slow, careful footsteps. “Are you going to be OK?”

Amélie shrugged. She reached up to her shoulder, maybe adjusting a phantom rifle strap. Though she had free run of Watchpoint, the Commander wasn’t letting her have weapons again just yet. “I will manage,” she said.

“Oh. Good. That’s good.” Lena nodded at where the ground rose up ahead of them. “It’ll be just over this hill.”

They walked up the steep hill in silence. Halfway to the top, Lena tripped on an old root jutting out of the ground, and Amélie grabbed her arm to steady her.

“Thanks,” Lena murmured. When Amélie let her go, Lena still felt the slight pressure of Amélie’s fingers curled around her bicep.

They reached the crest of the hill, and a castle sat cradled in a shallow valley. Lena wasn’t surprised by the thick, looming walls, or the hard lattice of the gate, or the long shadows cast by the towers, or the smoke trickling out of a cluster of vents. She was surprised by how the sight _affected_ her. The castle yanked at her gut, gave her a thrill, like she was walking through the gates of an amusement park or seeing a new, amazing view. Lena hadn’t seen an unfamiliar building in ages.

She shook her head and reminded herself that she had a job to do.

“How does it look to you?” Lena asked.

Amélie tilted her head.

“The same,” Amélie said.

“That’s encouraging, I suppose.” Lena pressed her binoculars to her face. “They haven’t, I dunno, added a moat. Anything I should be looking for?”

“Be careful,” Amélie said. “The guards may be coming back around.”

They ducked low. Lena smelled the cold, rich earth mixed with the sting of her own sweat. Lena was nervous about being spotted, but Amélie’s breaths were slow and heavy. The caught each other’s eyes as they waited. Amélie _seemed_ calm.

That didn’t keep Lena from worrying, about their mission or about Amélie. Lena had figured out that no matter what Amélie was showing on the surface, plenty could be roiling on inside of her. She’d seen Amélie act calm and icy in a briefing or the mess hall, but have a tense expression as soon as Amélie thought all backs were turned.

Aleksandra was still unfriendly to Amélie in the briefings and the mess hall, though Lena wasn’t about to blame her. Genji and Dr. Ziegler were perfectly polite to Amélie, but Dr. Ziegler could pass a pleasant afternoon with a rabid dog. The rest of Watchpoint was coming to tolerate the latest addition.

Lena wasn’t so sure what _she_ thought of Amélie. It was hard to be comfortable with a cagey person who’d introduced herself on the opposite side of a firefight. On the other hand, there was a genuine vulnerability to Amélie drew Lena in.

“What are you thinking?” Lena asked. No one had ever accused her of being a subtle person.

Amélie’s head snapped up, and she stared at Lena. “Why are you asking me that?”

Lena forced a shrug. “It’s what everyone wants to know, isn’t it?”

Amélie turned away. “We move,” she said. “The longer we stay here, the more risk we run of being caught. Talon does not have the personnel to make far-reaching patrols often, but they make them from time to time.”

“I just want to know if –”

Lights flickered in the distance. Lena spun to face the castle and saw that floodlights had been turned on. A gate was opening with a metallic scream.

“They’ve spotted us!” Lena hissed.

“No,” Amélie said, slowly and calmly. “They have not.” She gave a tiny sigh. “I thought they would not need to purge anymore, but I was…mistaken. We really must leave. If we stay, we _will_ die.”

A mass of people poured out of the castle gate, moving as one down the narrow road. Lena raised her binoculars and took a look at the crowd.

They were zombies. Each one had on a black jumpsuit. The zombies weren’t bloated and peeling – they were fresh, with skin smooth and tight. Lena hadn’t seen new zombies in a long time. The zombies moved with quick, deliberate steps, like zombies did before their joints started to fall apart.

“They’ll be coming up the hill,” Amélie said. “Talon likes to empty them into the woods.” She clamped a hand on Lena’s shoulder. “We should run now.”

Lena opened her mouth to ask another question, but Amélie had already dragged Lena a few steps back. Amélie pulled Lena along until Lena started running under her own power.

“How did they know we were here?” Lena shouted as they ran.

“They – do not,” Amélie said, her words broken with a small gasp. She started to fall behind; she wasn’t a sprinter. Lena slowed just a bit so they stayed together. She hoped Amélie could keep up. “Talon – releases the excess. From time to time.”

“Excess of what?” Lena asked.

“The zombies – that they – make.”

While Amélie spoke, they crashed through a tangle of underbrush. Lena cringed, and held up one hand to stop them.

“If we make too much noise, even the daftest of those zombies will be able to track us. All the way to Watchpoint, even,” Lena hissed. “We’ve got to tread carefully.”

Amélie nodded. “Yes. Of course.”

Lena and Amélie took a slower, meticulous route through the forest. It was one thing when you thought a few zombies _might_ be nearby. It was a whole other monster when a herd was _definitely_ at your heels. They moved under and around the branches, stepping on bare ground and tree roots, nothing that would break under their feet.

Lena heard the zombies behind them every step of the way. She heard their slow, incautious footsteps, their rasps that sounded like dry coughs. At least she and Amélie could haul arse to Watchpoint.

Something was moving between the trees. Older zombies with burned and wrinkled skin milled in a clearing ahead of Lena and Amélie. All of the old zombies were wearing black jumpsuits, like the new purged zombies behind them.

“An old batch,” Amélie muttered.

“Should we try to go through them?” Lena asked, her hand drifting to her sidearm.

“And give the new batch time to catch up?” Amélie asked, pointing over her shoulder.

“That’s a no, then!” Lena grabbed Amélie’s arm. They ran between the swarms, less slowly, less quietly. Lena cringed when her shoulder caught and snapped a branch, and ran faster, though her leg muscles were burning and Amélie was slipping behind. The sun that filtered through the leaves was getting dimmer, and a couple times Lena dodged a rock or branch only to realize the obstacle was only a shadow.

Then they came to the third group of zombies, huddled under tangled branches. These zombies weren’t old, they were bloody ancient. Most of them didn’t have hair anymore. The flesh on their skulls and fingertips had peeled away to show stained bones. They were wearing the ragged remains of black jumpsuits.

Lena and Amélie stopped. Lena looked over her shoulder. She saw flickers of movement, far behind. But not far _enough_ behind.

One of the zombies turned its head around, neck stretching like an owl’s. It stared at Lena with empty, scratched eyes. Its jaw was open, and in the dying light, Lena could have sworn its tongue was flopping up and down…

“We’re surrounded,” Amélie said.

Lena pointed at the branches above them. “Time for a new plan.”


	7. Sitting in a Tree

Lena bounced on the balls of her feet, watching the zombies stagger closer. Amélie pulled her grappling hook off her belt, and threw the end up into a tall and sturdy tree next to them. She tugged the cord.

“It’s secure,” she said.

“Well, after you,” Lena said. She drew her sidearm and turned her back on Amélie. The zombies were closing in from practically every side. Lena was confident she could make any headshots she needed to, but the noise of the gunfire would bring the rest of the zombies running.

There was one zombie, particularly lively (if you will), who was coming close. It wasn’t one of the fresher ones, but it had plenty of fight left in it. A section of bone was exposed over its eyes, like a gruesome raised eyebrow. The zombie was ten feet away, but walking at a decent pace for a zombie. Lena kept her gun trained on it.

Nine feet away. The grappling hook cord hit Lena in the back, swinging free and empty. Amélie must be making progress.

Lena risked a glance over her shoulder. Amélie was almost up the cord. The zombie was about six feet away now. Was Lena breathing? Lena wasn’t entirely sure she was breathing. She supposed she’d be sure once she passed out.

The crippling hook cord hit Lena in the back again. “Lena!” Amélie hissed. Lena looked over her shoulder again, and saw Amélie perched, cat-like, on a branch.

The zombie was almost within arm’s length. Against all instincts, Lena holstered her sidearm and grabbed the cord. She made a loop for her feet and started climbing.

Lena was no bloody gymnast. She hoisted herself up as quickly as she could, without grace or elegance. Her right hand slipped, and the cord burned her palm. Lena set her jaw.

Something cold scraped Lena’s ankle. It was definitely flesh. A tiny shriek tore from Lena’s lips and she scrambled upward with renewed speed.

Something grabbed her sleeve. Lena’s heart jumped into her mouth, but when she looked up, it was only Amélie, reaching down from her perch to help pull Lena up, away from the reaching zombie, and onto the branch next to Amélie.

“Thanks!” Lena gasped.

“It didn’t bite you? Scratch you?” Amélie asked, nodded down at the zombie.

Lena shook her head. Amélie hadn’t let go of Lena’s arm, and Lena didn’t want her to. More zombies were walking under the tree, coming from three directions, bumping into each other with no reaction other than simple corrective movements. Like opposing waves in the water, buffeting one another and completely unaware.

“I don’t think we’re getting down anytime soon,” Lena said.

“Good thing the zombies can’t climb trees, no?” Amélie said.

“Yeah,” Lena said. “I’m feeling pretty swell about that at the moment.” She frowned. “Watchpoint’s going to think we were captured. Or eaten.”

“Whatever assumptions they make are on them,” Amélie said. “The zombies are on the move. A herd typically passes within hours.”

“What about three herds at once?” Lena asked. She cleared her throat, and forced some chipperness into her voice. “Well. Maybe when we roll back into town we’ll find ourselves at our own funeral. Like Tom Sawyer.”

Amélie narrowed her eyes. “I do not know who that is.”

“Oh. Remind me of that next time we’re near a library.” Lena looked up into the tree, where its rough boughs gave way to branches and twigs. “I guess we should make ourselves comfortable for the night.”

Amélie grunted and let go of Lena. “I’m a sniper. I can rest on a perch. You, you may have a harder night.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Amélie either didn’t catch the sarcasm, or was ignoring it. “I would suggest keeping our voices low. The zombies may not be able to reach us, but too much noise will agitate them and keep them near.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo with zombies. Though it _is_ my first time getting chased up a tree.” Lena hoisted herself onto a branch above Amélie, and settled in the nook where the branch met the truck. “That’s not so bad.” She swung her left foot, back and forth, like a kid on a swing kicking at the air.

“There is no need to talk at all,” Amélie said.

“C’mon, Amélie, even you can’t listen to ambient zombie noise all night.”

“Hm.”

“Amélie…” Lena shifted on her branch. “Are you ever going to tell your story?”

“It isn’t a story,” Amélie said. “It’s not entertainment you share around the campfire.”

“I just mean you can open up to me,” Lena said. “You’ve gone through…something. You’re not the most upstanding apocalyptic citizen, sure. I’ve seen you do bad things, and we’ve all heard rumors of worse?”

“What rumors?” Amélie asked, her voice icy.

Lena cleared her throat. “Everyone wants to know what happened to Gérard. And when they see an assassin with no husband, it’s hard not to think she’s some kind of…widow maker.”

Amélie was silent for so many long minutes that Lena was afraid she’d pushed too far.

“Talon captured both of us at once,” Amélie said. “We were on a scouting mission. Like this one. They took us by surprise.” She paused. “I wish I’d been able to…to fend them off. But Gérard was the hand-to-hand fighter, not me. They overwhelmed him.”

In the dark, Lena saw Amélie shrug. “That castle? It’s strangely familiar in there. Very modern. It was like being kidnapped by a hospital. Talon locked us in an empty examination room, but at least we were together. We heard screaming through the walls, and wondered what we had gotten ourselves into. At that time, the idea that Talon had created the zombie pathogen was not a certainty. The longer Gérard and I sat in that room, the more doubts faded away.”

“How long…?”

“They held us for a day, maybe slightly less. After that, some guards took us away, and we were sure we would be tortured for information, then executed. I was so afraid.” Her tone was quiet, and dull. “Gérard comforted me the best he could, but even months of living in hell hadn’t yet prepared me for such a cold confrontation with my own mortality. We prepared for the end. It did not come as we expected.

“We were separated. Physically separated, but escorted into the same lab. A woman came in…she had red hair, and an Irish accent. Her name is Dr. O’Deorain. I learned that later. She asked the questions we thought we would be asked: who we were, if Watchpoint had sent us, what the base’s defenses were like… Gérard was silent, through strength. _I_ couldn’t have spoken if I wanted to. I remember shaking, feeling my pulse in my muscles.

“Gérard finally asked a question of his own – when they were going to kill us. Dr. O’Deorain laughed – her laugh rings in my head like a nightmare I’ve just woken up from. She said killing us would be wasteful. She said she would be putting us to good use.”

A zombie below them snorted and shuffled. There was the sound of two heavy bodies colliding, and a hiss when one zombie was annoyed by the impact.

“One of the awful woman lab’s assistants injected Gérard with no warning or explanation. They left the room as soon as they had done so. Dr. O’Deorain seemed to forget about us when she left, talking with her colleagues about ‘viral load’ and ‘incubation time.’ Gérard and I stared at each other, and knew we should say good-bye.”

Once again, Lena heard herself say, with a dry mouth: “How long?”

“A few hours. We sat on the floor, holding each other. He turned to me eventually. His eyes were glazing over. He said I had to act quickly.”

Amélie was silent for a while. Lena waited before asking another question.

“What did you use?”

“I broke off the leg of a stool. It wasn’t strong enough to break open the laboratory door, but…I...”

Amélie’s labored breathing rose above the noise of the slow steps on the ground.

“It was like...rebirthing.” Lena could barely hear Amélie’s whisper. “There was so much blood. My body was not mine. Not anymore.

“Talon’s agents came for me hours later. They said they were impressed. I think they were telling the truth. And after that…there were ways of motivating me. Punishments. Threats to other kidnapped testing subjects. The reminder that I could never return to Watchpoint after what I’d done. But I felt I had already died. I still carry the feeling with me.”

The sky was all the way to a starless, moonless black. Lena stared hard into the dark, forcing herself not to cry, because this wasn’t about her, not even a little bit. She gently lowered her hand off her lap letting it hover just over Amélie’s shoulder, in case she –

Amélie grabbed Lena’s hand, and Lena hoped the warmth of skin on skin was more than a drop of comfort in a dry well of hurt.

That was when things got confusing.

Amélie swung onto the branch with Lena. In one fluid motion, she leaned forward and kissed Lena hard on the mouth. Lena found herself smothered and breathless, and held tightly to the tree with one hand and to Amélie with the other. Lena had kissed plenty of girls before, but it had never been so unstable, literally or figuratively, and she had never cared less about fear or violence or death swarming underneath her.

Amélie pulled away. Lena couldn’t tell whose gasps were whose.

“I don’t understand,” Lena whispered.

Amélie didn’t answer. She didn’t lean in again, either.

The zombie footsteps had become background noise to Lena. Mostly, she heard blood rushing in her ears. But a new sound was coming from the ground. Lena heard footsteps, but these were heavier, faster, and more purposeful. The kissing thrill in her stomach turned rotten with fear.

“Do you–?” Lena whispered.

Amélie covered Lena’s mouth.

The footsteps grew closer. Lena wanted to look down, to see what was stalking toward them. But Lena couldn’t look down without moving, and she couldn’t do that without shaking the tree.

“ _I know you’re out here_ ,” came a raspy male voice.

Lena didn’t know how this could be happening. The zombie herds still hadn’t passed. No one could calmly walk through a crowd of zombies. Not for very long.

The footsteps stopped.

“ _Amélie…how hard do you want to make this?_ ” It was like listening to someone speak from a sewer grate. “ _I’m happy to do this the hard way_.”

There was a metallic sound, a shotgun being pumped.

Amélie straightened up. She slid down to the branch below, then Lena heard the dull thud of Amélie’s boots hitting the ground.

“I don’t want to play games, Reyes,” Amélie said.

Lena braced herself for the snarling, for the screaming, for the sound of ripping flesh. But the zombies didn’t attack. Still, Lena didn’t want to just sit here and –

“ _I know you’re there, too,_ ” said the man on the ground.

“There’s no need to involve her,” Amélie said. “She was a lackey sent along by Watchpoint. She’s unimportant.”

Lena let herself drop to the ground, right behind Amélie. Standing in front of them was a hulking form of metal and leather. Over the man’s face was a white mask, with eyeholes and cheekbones like an angry skull. The zombies gave them a wide berth – no they were giving the man, Reyes, a wide berth, and Lena didn’t even want to start guessing as to why.

“ _I’ll decide what’s important_ ,” came Reyes’s voice. “ _Let’s go home._ ”


	8. Inside the Walls

It was, indeed, the creepiest forced march through three herds of zombies that Lena had ever experienced.

Amélie said nothing, and didn’t look at Lena. Amélie didn’t seem frightened or impressed by Reyes’s parting of the undead sea, but Lena couldn’t help staring at the zombies when they came close. She had to fight the urge to reach out and poke one.

She _did_ stay close to Reyes, though he wasn’t the sort Lena would normally make a point of staying close to. He clutched a light in his fist, and the shadows rendered his skull mask all the more haunting. Everything about the man was bulky. The black leather he wore made him look like Darth Vader, and Lena had seen car engines that were slimmer and more aesthetic than that shotgun. Something about him was off. He walked too smoothly. He didn’t react to small noises. Lena wondered what was under the mask.

Lena got a case of déjà vu as they retraced their steps back to Talon’s castle. As the stone walls loomed ahead, Lena considered making a run for it. But the shotgun stopped her. And the thought that running might mean leaving Amélie behind.

Amélie had _kissed_ Lena. She had _kissed_ her. When Lena replayed the memory, her brain made a noise like squealing brakes. The kissing hadn’t been bad – just the opposite. But Lena wasn’t sure it had been coming from a good place. One second, Amélie had been reliving her pain and grief. And then…

Reyes took them to the hill overlooking Talon’s castle. The three of them took the long way around, to a worn, dirt road. The same dirt road the zombies had been released onto. Lena could see the footprints in the dim light.

The gate opened. Lena couldn’t tell if Reyes had given some kind of signal, or if someone was just watching out for Reyes’s return.

“Steel yourself,” Amélie whispered.

“For what?” Lena asked.

“Your fate will likely be the same as mine. They will interrogate you. They may torture you. And then they will use you for testing.”

Lena thought of the zombies in the woods. She pictured the fresher ones’ empty eyes and quiet steps. She pictured the fresher ones’ exposed bones and organs. How they were so obviously dead, but they just hadn’t realized it yet. Would never realize it.

 _You knew this was a possibility_ , Lena reminded herself. _You knew you could end up one of the shambling dead the moment the RAF confirmed the nightmare news reports and rumors were true._

She hadn’t imagined, back in those days, that the zombie disease was something living humans would give one another on purpose. Maybe she’d been too optimistic.

Or maybe she wasn’t being optimistic enough right now. The gate shut behind her, Amélie, and Reyes, leaving them in a bare courtyard with a single door on the other side. Lena realized she was in the belly of the beast, but a belly was a pretty weak spot on most beasts.

She’d been brought out here to help Watchpoint. And Watchpoint was out here to stop Talon. Lena told herself being captured was only a setback if she let it be. This could be an opportunity.

The trick was going to be believing that.


	9. Meeting the Doctor

Lena thought the outside of Talon’s castle was like something out of a fairy tale – but one of the originals, something old and primal, where all magic was dangerous and wolves ate people and children were stolen by monsters. Once Reyes ushered Lena and Amélie through the door on the other side of the courtyard, Lena forgot fairy tales and remembered hospitals. She flashed back to when she’d broken her wrist in primary school, and spent the afternoon in the A&E trying to keep a stiff upper lip while her arm bones throbbed.

Talon’s headquarters had the same ambience as an A&E. There was an intercom sending out garbled messages, someone rolled a metal cart by, and there was a strong antiseptic smell.

“ _Stop here_ ,” Reyes said.

He held one arm out so Lena and Amélie were forced to stop in their tracks. A tall figure rounded a corner up ahead and strode toward them.

“Ah, Reyes. You’ve done fine work as usual.” The woman, red-haired and elfin, had a smooth Irish accent and a cold expression. Lena presumed this was Dr. O’Deorain. Instead of a lab coat, Dr. O’Deorain was wearing loose dark clothes, like she was about to jump into a helicopter for a black ops mission.

She nodded at Amélie, as if they were coworkers who’d run into each other outside a meeting. “Lacroix. You’re looking well. And you…” Her gaze slid to Lena. “The presence of an agent of Watchpoint was not unexpected. However, I have no data on you personally.”

Lena forced a brave face. “Well, that’s disappointing. I’d hoped I had a reputation by now.”

Dr. O’Deorain looked Lena up and down. She grabbed Lena’s chin, and before Lena could push her away, Dr. O’Deorain pushed her head from side to side, inspecting her face. She let go, and Lena took a step back, rubbing her face where the cold fingers had gripped her.

“You should cut your bloody nails,” Lena said, feeling the dents in her skin. “’Strewth, is _that_ where you lot get your name?”

Dr. O’Deorain smirked. “You’re spirited. I’m curious as to how long that will last.” She nodded at Reyes. “Process them. Then update me.”

Reyes nudged Lena and Amélie forward. Dr. O’Deorain stepped aside and watched them pass. “I’ll be seeing you imminently,” she said.

Lena thought about her sidearm as she went by Dr. O’Deorain. She wondered how quickly she could draw the gun in this tight not-hospital hallway. Quickly enough to avoid a shotgun blast? She doubted it. And where the hell would Lena go if she got the drop on Talon? Deeper into the evil science castle, or out into rolling hills of zombies?

She needed a plan, but none were showing up.

She found herself wondering what Commander Morrison would do. He wouldn’t make a mad grab for his sidearm. He wouldn’t act until he knew what he was dealing with.

Lena squinted at Reyes. “I don’t understand, doctor,” she said loudly.

“Wait.” Dr. O’Deorain’s tone was sharp and curious. “What don’t you understand?”

“Your henchman here.” Lena nodded at Reyes. “The zombies don’t bother him at all. I can’t even come up with the first idea as to how that works. I thought it was just noise that attracted the zombies. And this bloke’s not silent.”

“Lena…” Amélie whispered.

“What on earth are you doing in that campsite of yours? _Just noise_.” Dr. O’Deorain let out a short laugh. “An amateur’s grasping hypothesis.”

Lena turned around slowly, without making any sudden moves. “Well, if it works, it works.”

One arched eyebrow. “Hm. It’s my philosophy that one should aim for a result higher than ‘it works.’”

“All right, then.” Lena pointedly looked from Dr. O’Deorain to Reyes and back again. “What have you aimed for?”

It was a pretty obvious ploy, and Lena wasn’t going to be landing any jobs as a secret agent, but it seemed like Dr. O’Deorain was willing to play along for the time being.

“Pheromones,” she said. “The human body releases large amounts of certain chemicals as it decomposes. When the infected smell those chemicals, they are driven away because a corpse cannot be infected. In my research, I found certain genetic therapies can… _coax_ a human body to release such markers of decay while remaining functional.”

“ _There are side effects_ ,” Reyes growled. “ _You don’t want to see what’s under the mask_.”

“You don’t,” Amélie agreed in a low voice.

Dr. O’Deorain shrugged as if to say _What can ya do?_ “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Lena Oxton.”

“Lena Oxton…” Lena didn’t like the way Dr. O’Deorain rolled her name around in her mouth. “Reyes. There has been a change of plans. Take our guests to the core of the operation.”

Amélie stiffened.

“Disarm them first,” Dr. O’Deorain said lazily, walking down the hall.

Reyes took Lena’s sidearm, and searched Amélie for a long time before he believed she didn’t have a weapon.

“Please, Gabriel,” Amélie said. “Do you think Watchpoint trusts me with anything sharper than a spoon?”

“And not even that,” Lena muttered.

She’d hoped Amélie would smile, that the memory would be a good thing to look back on now, but Amélie’s gaze remained steely.

“We are going to die,” Amélie said to Lena. “You irritated her. Embarrassed her. So we are going to die now. Quickly and painfully.”

“I really wish you’d stop telling me we’re about to die,” Lena said. “Even if it is, well, _true_.”


	10. #90582

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this chapter late? Is it super early? You decide!

Lena expected the inside of Talon’s castle to be scarier. She expected darker lights and blood-spattered doctors and viewing windows open to unspeakable experiments. But the halls were plain, windowless, with anonymous doors. The further Reyes pushed Lena and Amélie into the building, the fewer people they encountered.

Though after a minute, Lena was pretty sure she heard a distant scream.

They turned a corner, and the hall widened and slanted downward, like the three of them had been transported into a different building. The hall ended in wide double doors. The walls weren’t so scrubbed clean here, and there were scuffmarks and stains on the ground. Lena pictured heavy loads being dragged, people with dirty shoes stomping in and out.

Reyes strolled ahead of Lena and Amélie, swallowing the distance with long and heavy strides. He punched a code into a small pad on the wall, and the doors creaked open.

The stench of death collided with Lena. She gagged. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was sudden, and a shock after walking through such a clean place. The worst part was, Lena couldn’t immediately see where the smell was coming from.

“It will get worse, _chérie_ ,” Amélie whispered.

The doors opened onto a perpendicular hallway. This one had viewing windows.

The room beyond the glass was the size of a football pitch, and sunk into the earth. It was an open concrete box in the ground, ringed with low, metal aisles that reminded Lena of chutes in a slaughterhouse.

“What is this place?” Lena asked, not really expecting an answer.

She didn’t get one.

A small control panel was set into the wall just under the window. Lena didn’t want to get closer, but Amélie walked ahead. She glanced over her shoulder at Lena.

“There is no other choice,” she said.

Lena followed her, and Reyes’s heavy boot steps came behind her. He pushed past Amélie and Lena.

“Thought you’d never arrive,” Dr. O’Deorain said, walking down the hallway toward them. She stopped in front of the control panel. “You’re lucky that I had a test planned for today. Otherwise we would have been waiting.”

“What are you testing?” Lena asked.

Dr. O’Deorain just gave a scornful laugh, and tapped the control panel. There was a distant humming noise. Hatches along the wall of the sunken room creaked open, and they gaped empty for several long seconds.

Zombies, very fresh, walked through the hatches. The chutes funneled them into the center of the room. Now that Lena was closer, she could see the floor in the middle of the room was dotted with grates. Dr. O’Deorain pushed something on the control panel, and the hatches in the wall slid shut again.

Dr. O’Deorain pulled a small recorder out of her pocket, and spoke into it. She rattled off the date and time, then: “Testing pheromonal control system #90582. Initial observations fit all parameters. Engaging…” She slid her fingers across the control panel.

And nothing happened.

Amélie cleared her throat. “Still haven’t added dye to the gas, doctor?”

Dr. O’Deorain switched off the recorder. “Dye could affect the compound and lead to deviation in my results. Aesthetic is not an imperative.”

“She’s pumping chemicals through the grates,” Amélie said to Lena. “It doesn’t look like much. It never looks like much.”

“My work doesn’t need to be flashy to be important,” Dr. O’Deorain said. “Lena Oxton, as I’m sure Ms. Lacroix has told you by now, Talon was responsible for the creation of the zombie pathogen.”

Lena shrugged. “The subject’s come up, yeah.”

“That was only step one.” Dr. O’Deorain turned back to the control panel. She squeezed the recorder. “Engaging electric systems.”

One flick of her long fingers, and the floor of the sunken room sparked. The zombies jerked and shuddered, like they were puppets with a frantic master. But their movements were the basic physical reaction that happened when a current ran through a piece of meat. Even a dead frog could do it. Zombies weren’t big thinkers, but Lena knew they could avoid a shock. Electric fences and cattle prods had been popular ways of warding of zombies, in the early days of the crisis, until fuel and batteries started to run low.

But these zombies were just standing there.

“Why?” was all Lena could think to ask.

“Because of step two,” Dr. O’Deorain said. She looked over her shoulder. There was a gleam of passion in her eyes that Lena found worrisome, but a welcome sign of humanity from this cold Irish scientist. “These pheromones lock their aggression down, even in the face of a threat. And I’m working on others. Several others. It’s not enough to create an army. You have to be able to give it commands. To run when you need it to, to bite when you need it to, and to stop and stand st–”

An angry cacophony erupted from the sunken room. The zombies seemed to suddenly realize they were being shocked. They ran and thrashed and slammed into each other. There was no escape from the electric current, no living thing for them to bite into, and they just didn’t know what to do with themselves.

Dr. O’Deorain cursed in what Lena presumed was Irish. She slapped the control panel so hard Lena was surprised she didn’t break one of her terrible nails.

“If at first you don’t succeed,” Lena couldn’t stop herself from saying.

Dr. O’Deorain glared at her, and Lena could have sworn the woman’s eyes about turned black.

“Reyes. Take them to a cell. Now.”

That was all Reyes needed, apparently. The shotgun came out again, and he aimed it at Lena. He jerked his head back toward the door. Lena had no choice but to go, and no one needed to tell Amélie to fall in line.

And Lena decided there was no point in being subtle, or hiding her fear and need for closeness in this strange, mad place. She grabbed Amélie’s hand, then relaxed her fingers slightly, enough so Amélie could pull away if she wanted to.

Amélie didn’t pull away.


	11. Locked

Reyes locked them in an empty grey room barely bigger than a broom cupboard. Lena slumped against the wall and wondered what Talon’s dungeon budget was. How much money had they spent to renovate some old castle? How much time? She tried to imagine Dr. O’Deorain fighting with her contractor on the phone.

Dr. O’Deorain…

“Can she do it?” Lena asked.

“Do what?” Amélie answered.

“You know.”

Amélie sighed. “I don’t know if it can _be_ done. But if it’s possible, Dr. O’Deorain will figure it out.”

“How long has she been doing this?” Lena asked. “Why didn’t anyone _stop_ her before now?”

“You think no one tried? I wasn’t there from the start. Neither was…neither was Gérard. But there were rumors for years, I know. Nobody expected the…scope. It’s something out of a bad movie, no?”

“So what do we do?”

“Do, _chérie_?”

Lena threw up her hands. “To stop her! That’s what Watchpoint is out here for, isn’t it?”

Amélie sighed again. Lena would have been annoyed if the sound wasn’t so pretty. (Wait, pretty? Sighing, pretty? What was wrong with Lena? What had this French sniper done to her bloody brain?)

“Lena. Please. I have cooperated as much as I can. And I would like to see this world become safer, if I even live to see that done. But we can’t do anything to stop Dr. O’Deorain. She has an army, even if she hasn’t perfected control.”

“But we–”

“Our first focus should be surviving!” Amélie snapped. She flounced to a corner and sat back on her heels.

“Why did you kiss me?” Lena asked, tired all of a sudden. So very tired.

Amélie clearly hadn’t been expecting the question. Her eyebrows raised slightly, and she looked away.

“Must we discuss this now?” she asked.

“Do you have something else to talk about?”

“How we survive.”

Lena grunted. “We’re in a cell. We’ll be fine for five bloody minutes. I want us to trust each other Amélie, and I thought we _did_. And then things got complicated.”

Amélie closed her eyes.

“You’ve been through a lot, love. And I’m not trying to make you get over it in one terrible night. But I do want to know…if _you_ even know…” She trailed off. Irritation sparked in her chest, that she couldn’t even finish her sentence. It was the damned zombie apocalypse, not secondary school.

“You want to know why I kissed you? Emotions were running high. That is the answer,” Amélie said, her eyes still closed. She reminded Lena of an angel in an old cemetery: mournful, beautiful, and made of stone.

“I know.”

“We don’t need to discuss it.”

“Really?” Lena wanted to push the issue, but Amélie _sounded_ sure.

“ _Really_.”

“Fine, then. You want to talk about survival? You’re more familiar with the set-up here. How do we survive?” More irritation. Though Lena wasn’t sure why, or at what. There were more important things to think about right now.

“We wait. We watch our captors. We wait for them to make a mistake. We be patient.”

“Said the sniper.”

Amélie shrugged.

“What kind of mistakes is Talon prone to making?”

“They’re arrogant and none of them like each other,” Amélie said after a moment’s hesitation. “They’ll be too confident. They’ll be distracted by an argument. They’ll take their eyes off of us for a second too long. Then we’ll run.”


	12. Open and Shut

Lena kicked the door again and again, her boot leaving black marks on the grey surface. The impact reverberated up her leg, almost becoming pain. Every blow brought a brief hope of progress, but nothing gave. Yet.

“That will do nothing,” Amélie said.

“It’ll make me feel better,” Lena grunted.

“Oh, will it?”

“If it works.” Lena kicked the door one more time, and hissed when she hit the door at the wrong angle and her knee exploded with pain. She cursed, and sat down on the floor in a huff.

“The lock was electric. The frame was made with metal. Brute force won’t help,” Amélie said. “Is waiting so hard for you?”

Lena waved her hands in a gesture of exasperation. “ _Yes!_ ”

Amélie shrugged. “At least you’re kind enough to provide me with entertainment.”

Lena scowled. She checked her watch, an old digital watch that had kept on blinking and ticking like it hadn’t noticed its warranty didn’t cover operating post-doomsday. Lena and Amélie had been stuck in this little room for just under eight hours. It felt like much less than that, and much more. The passage of time was hard to gauge when you were under the same flickering electric light. Lena had thought she wouldn’t be able to calm down to sleep, but she and Amélie had both dozed on and off over the past few hours. Still, Lena didn’t feel rested at all.

“An electric lock…” Lena muttered. “How do you pick an electric lock?”

“You don’t.”

Lena nodded at the vents in the ceiling. “How big do you think–?”

“ _Non_.”

The light flickered. Lena started, and frowned. “What on earth?”

But Amélie didn’t seem to know why the light had flickered, either. She was on her feet in an instant, mouth tight and eyes jumping from side to side.

The light flickered again. The ground shook. Then the lights went out for good.

Amélie cursed in French. Lena grabbed for the door handle, and knew sweet relief like nothing else when the door swung outward. The hall was pitch black, but it was empty and quiet and inviting.

“Fan-fucking-bloody- _tastic_!” Lena gasped. “Let’s go!”

“Wait.” Amélie grabbed Lena’s arm. “This could be a trap.”

“How?” Lena asked.

“I am not sure, but Dr. O’Deorain–”

“Would want us to run wild in the hallways? How would that help her?”

“I don’t know.” Lena couldn’t see Amélie’s face, but her voice was cold. “She is brilliant and driven. But she is also sadistic. This could be a trick for a trick’s sake.”

Lena’s heart started hammering with anxiety instead of elation. “Don’t you want to take the chance?”

Amélie didn’t answer right away.

“Come on,” Lena said. “I – I think we should go, but I don’t want to leave you behind.”

“I don’t want to keep you here with me.”

“I don’t want to leave you.” Lena bit down hard on her lip before continuing. “Talon’s going to kill us anyway, aren’t they? In an awful, horrible way? If they can make _that_ any worse because we took advantage of a power outage, I’ll let you give me all the blame.”

Amélie didn’t answer. But her strong fingers grabbed Lena’s arm in the dark, and then they were both running down the hall, their footsteps echoing. Lena worried they might crash into a wall, but Amélie was familiar with this nightmare building and wouldn’t steer her wrong.

The ground shook for a second time. Amélie’s grip tightened, but Lena didn’t mind.

“Do you know what that was?” Lena asked.

“No…” Amélie said slowly.

“That sounded like an explosion,” Lena said. “What would Talon be blowing up?”

“Nothing I know of,” Amélie said.

Shouts. Distant shouts. Gunfire. Lena ached for her sidearm.

“Having second thoughts?” Amélie asked.

“No. It’s fine. We’ll be just fine, luv,” Lena said with as much confidence as she wanted to feel. “At least we know it’s not zombies.”

“Is that better or worse?”

“Let’s say it’s better.”

They fumbled together at the door to a stairwell, but it wasn’t locked. Amélie led Lena up the stairs.

“This will end at a maintenance hallway,” Amélie hissed. “If it’s chaos up there, we may be able to exit through a back–”

A man yelled, wordlessly and loudly. The sound was familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on why.

“Slow down,” Lena whispered. “Did you hear that?”

Amélie got sniper-still. “Was that–?”

“Commander Morrison!” Lena lunged for the stairwell exit door, and shoved it open to reveal a small knot of gloriously familiar people: Commander Morrison, Ana, Aleksandra, and Lúcio, all fitted with weapons and shoulder flashlights.

“Lena! And Amélie!” Ana greeted the two of them like she was welcoming them to an afternoon party.

Aleksandra waved. “ _Privet_. We’re here to rescue you.”


	13. Upstairs

Lena stared at her colleagues from Watchpoint as Amélie spluttered a few choice French swearwords.

“H-how?” Lena said at last.

Commander Morrison grunted. “We don’t have time for that right now. Oxton, Lacroix, if you’re not injured, let’s get out of here.”

You didn’t need to tell Lena twice, though that didn’t answer any of her questions. She fell in with the rest of the Watchpoint crew, and Amélie was just a bit behind her. Aleksandra handed Lena a flashlight…and a sidearm.

“Bloody hell, I could kiss you,” Lena muttered. She glanced guiltily at Amélie, before she realized what she was doing. Amélie still wasn’t trusted with a weapon. And bringing up kissing around her was, well, awkward. Lena felt her face get hot, and was glad for the dark.

Commander Morrison gestured forward. The six of them moved down the hall, and for the first time in hours, Lena relaxed. She was surrounded by armed allies. The best place to be in the zombie apocalypse.

Footsteps echoed down the hall ahead.

“Is there another team with us?” Lena asked.

“No,” Commander Morrison said. “Look alive, everyone.”

“ _You always thought you were funny, Jack_.” The shadows ahead were indistinct, but Lena recognized Reyes’s if-cold-steel-could-talk rasp.

“I truly didn’t know it was you out there, Gabriel,” Commander Morrison said. “There are six of us here, so step aside. For old time’s sake.”

Reyes made a noise Lena was pretty sure was supposed to be a laugh. “ _The old times are why I won’t mind sending all six of you to oblivion_.”

“I don’t think that’s an option for you.”

“ _I don’t think you know what’s possible for me anym–_ ”

The crack of a gun, and an explosion of shattering tile. Ana had fired while Reyes was talking.

“You boys were having a lovely conversation,” she said. “But I don’t plan on being here all week.”

Commander Morrison seized the distraction and fired at Reyes as well. As soon as he drew his sidearm, though, Reyes vanished into the shadows in a blur of body armor.

“Go!” Commander Morrison shouted.

They ran down the hall. Lena kept an eye on Amélie as well as the rear of the group, but Amélie seemed fine. They rounded a corner, and suddenly Lena smelled the all-too-familiar smell of rotting flesh.

“Wait!” Lena said. “Commander, I think we may be getting close to where Talon keeps their zombies.”

“Zombies?”

“Zombies. For testing. An awful lot of them. Should we turn around and avoid them?” The smell grew stronger. Lena coughed.

“Jack…” Ana said slowly.

“We may not have a chance to avoid them,” Commander Morrison growled. “Everybody retreat and brace yourselves.”

A healthy speedwalk was enough to outpace even fresh zombies. But this was a narrow hallway, in the dark, in an unfamiliar place. And who knew how many zombies were coming.

“Amélie,” Commander Morrison said, “can you get us out of here?”

Amélie was silent for so long that Lena was worried the answer was going to be “no.”

“I can,” Amélie said at last. “Follow me.”

They rotated so Amélie was leading the way. She lead them back into the stairwell, where the world became even noisier as six pairs of boots thundered up metal stairs. Lena assumed they were going to the top of the stairwell, which Amélie said would lead to a maintenance hallway, but they only went one flight up. Were they still underground?

“We should…go through here…” Amélie said. Lena heard hesitation in her voice, which set off worried alarms in Lena’s head. She thought she was past doubting Amélie, but her first fears rose in her like pain in an old injury. Was it possible Amélie would betray them? After all this time? After she’d poured her heart out to Lena? After Overwatch had come to save their lives?

Amélie opened the door.

Lena didn’t smell undeath, which she took as a good sign. This floor smelled of soap and antiseptic, but Lena knew those scents could cover up plenty of evil business.

It was dark in this hallway, too. Amélie darted forward into the shadows, out of reach of the shoulder flashlights.

“Amélie!” Lena yelled.

“Stop her!” Commander Morrison said.

Lena followed Amélie’s pounding footsteps down the hall, catching only a glimpse of Amélie in the flashlight beam. She didn’t think Amélie was running straight down the hall; Amélie seemed to be darting from one wall to the other and back again.

There were doors on either side of the hall. They were open.

Lena hesitated. Then, on a hunch, she stepped over the threshold of the nearest door.

It was still, dark, and quiet. Lena moved the flashlight beam around the bare examination room.

A woman’s body lay face down on the floor, limbs splayed as if she had just fallen. There was a neat bullet wound in the back of her head. Lena swallowed hard and backed out of the room.

The room next door was the same, except the victim there was a small man. His left arm was pinned under his body, his back bent, one shoe kicked off. He had died struggling.

Amélie was checking on them, Lena realized. She was checking to see if any were alive. And none of them were.

_You don’t know it yet, cherie, but you’ve doomed half a dozen lives._

Amélie had warned Lena, weeks and weeks ago. Watchpoint would have swooped in as quickly as they could, which wouldn’t have left a lot of time for Talon’s personnel to lock down or clear out. They could have left their other kidnapped test subjects to their own devices, but they’d taken time. They’d taken time to go into each room, and kill each poor person…one by one.

At least Talon hadn’t turned them. Lena went grasping for some kind of comfort from that fact, but couldn’t reach it.

“Oxton! Lacroix!” Commander Morrison shouted. “Report now!”

Lena walked out of the room, but Amélie didn’t reply.

“These rooms are – they were – full of what seem to be test subjects,” Lena called. Four flashlights shone back at her. “They’re all dead, sir. Executed.” Her throat felt thick.

There was a ripple of reaction through the Watchpoint group. Aleksandra and Lúcio both took the Lord’s name in vain in multiple languages, and Ana made a soft sad noise.

“Amélie?” Lena called.

Lena caught movement at the end of the hall. Amélie had run to the end, and had just come to a halt when Lena caught up with her.

“Amélie…this is awful…” Lena whispered.

Amélie said nothing. A sheet of paper taped to the wall shone white in the half-light. With a shaking hand, Amélie pulled it down.

Lena could see the writing on the page. _I told you there would be consequences, Ms. Lacroix_ , it read in handwriting that was as elegant as it was spidery, followed by: _Regards, Moira._


	14. Smoke

Lena stared at Dr. O’Deorain’s letter for a few seconds that felt like eternity, then Lúcio, speaking from the end of the hall, cut into her shocked and horrified thoughts.

“Does anyone smell smoke?” he asked.

An alarm began to scream, distant but piercing. Amélie started, and spun on her heel.

“Everyone, let’s move!” Commander Morrison snapped.

Amélie stayed where she was.

“We have to go,” Lena said quietly, speaking just loud enough for Amélie to hear her over the fire alarm. “Amélie.” She touched Amélie’s arm gently. “We have to go.”

Amélie turned to Lena with no expression. “Then let’s go.”

They ran back to the stairwell, just behind their rescuers.

“This will take us to the ground level!” Amélie called. “There will be an exit nearby!” They pounded up the stairs until Amélie pointed at a door and shouted: “There!”

The door opened up into a wide hallway that ended in a garage door and was bare except for a few empty carts. It was disturbingly normal.

“The door opens with that control panel,” Amélie said. “But the power is off…”

“No problem!” Aleksandra sounded almost cheerful. She bent her knees and grabbed the bottom of the door. She rose, prying the door open with one hand. The muscles in her right arm bulged as she pushed the door over her head. “Anyone feel like a walk?”

Lena gave her a little clap. “Perfect ten, luv.”

Commander Morrison grunted. “We still have to make it past the zombies.”

 

The door led them to a short loading dock. At first, Lena was overjoyed to be outside, in the sunlight and out of a mad scientist’s basement. The reality hit her when she got a whiff of walking corpse. It was just a trace, but it set off the goose bumps on the back of her neck.

“They’re releasing zombies into the woods, sir,” Lena said. “We have to steer clear.”

“Then it’ll be a long way back,” Commander Morrison said. He holstered his sidearm and jumped off the loading dock. He started walking east with short, steady strides, like he expected everyone to follow him with no further questions.

Which, to be fair, they did. Ana followed him with an easy hop, like she skipping the last step on a normal set of stairs. Lena jumped, bending her knees on impact and almost falling over. She felt a little better about the clumsiness when Lúcio did the same. Aleksandra shook her head, sat down on the edge of the loading dock, and pushed herself off so she had the shortest drop possible.

Amélie was the last to go. She leapt off the dock with a smooth jump, hitting the ground at a light run like it was the easiest thing in the world. She did everything like an acrobat…like those French-speaking clown acrobats who did those silly shows before the world went to hell.

The mental image made Lena laugh. Everybody turned to stare at her, as she took in deep, coughing laughs, her stress and exhaustion pouring out of her as she started to cry with mirth.

To Lena’s surprise, though Lena hadn’t uttered a word of explanation, Aleksandra and Lúcio stopped and started to laugh, too. They started with low giggles like two schoolchildren who’d heard a fart in a church service. Then Amélie joined in, cackling.

Ana stared at them with an expression that combined amusement and bemusement. Commander Morrison’s was hard to read, but he didn’t gruffly remind them to keep walking, which Lena took as grudging approval.

“I’m sorry!” Lena gasped when she was able.

“What are we laughing at?” Amélie asked.

“I…am sure I don’t know anymore.” Lena wiped her eyes. “Oh. Blimey. We’re wasting daylight, aren’t we?”

Aleksandra shook her head. “No. Let’s stay between the burning castle and the woods full of zombies.”

“We should head south,” Amélie said. “Talon doesn’t release the zombies in that direction.”

“We’ll make a camp when the light grows too dark to see by,” Commander Morrison said. “Stay close to one another; don’t risk being a straggler.”

Commander Morrison’s orders sobered everybody up. They were all quiet as they grouped up and walked toward the trees. When they were a decent distance away, Lena stopped and looked over her shoulder. She wasn’t sure if the castle was flammable enough for a true blaze, but a steady stream of smoke was stretching to the sky. Lena wondered if the fire would be enough to burn out the rot and evil Talon’s castle had held.

She looked at Amélie, but her eyes were fixed on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you to everyone who has commented or left kudos. I can't believe this has more than a thousand hits already!


	15. Old Lives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short one this week, guys.

Lena hurt in every which way. Her feet, rubbed raw in her boots, hurt from walking through the woods. Her bum still hurt from sitting around her cell in Talon’s castle. Her back hurt for what seemed to be no bloody good reason.

She didn’t complain, though. At least they hadn’t run into any zombies. Yet.

Commander Morrison had asked Lena and Amélie a few quiet, terse questions about their time with Talon. Amélie had let Lena do all the talking, though, and the Commander probably preferred to get all the information from the woman he trusted more.

The Commander didn’t show much surprise when Lena told him about Reyes’s immunity to the zombies. He only wanted to know what the radius of effect was like, how the zombies had behaved around Reyes, and whether Reyes had appeared to be in any pain.

“Do you know Reyes, sir?” Lena had asked. “Both of you mentioned ‘old times…’”

“That’s what they were,” Commander Morrison had said. “Old times. Old lives. Not worth dwelling on unless they can be used to defeat the enemy in front of you.”

“Is that what Talon is, then? An old life?”

Commander Morrison had taken his time before answering.

“It isn’t,” he said at last. “But some people from my past have found themselves there. I would have like things to have gone differently. But what-ifs are luxuries we can’t afford in the world we live in now.”

Lena had figured that was the closest she was ever going to get from a long, emotional speech from Commander Morrison, and didn’t ask him any more questions.

The shadows lengthened quickly under the trees. Lena stifled a groan of relief when Ana stopped their group to rest for the night.

“I’ll take the first watch, as long as I can _sit down_ while doing it,” Lena said, collapsing onto the trunk of a fallen tree.

Ana’s eyebrows shot up. “Really, Lena? Are you sure you don’t want to sleep? You’ve been through such an ordeal.”

Lena shrugged. “I don’t think I could sleep if I tried. I’m fine for the next few hours.”

She hoped Aleksandra or Lúcio would volunteer to keep watch with her, so she would have someone to gossip with and tell stupid jokes. She thought she could deal with letting her brain rest a little bit.

To her surprise, Amélie stepped forward. “I’ll stay up with you.”

“Oh! Well, sure…” Lena scooted to one side, though there was enough room on the log. As everyone climbed up into the trees, Amélie settled down next to Lena. The log rocked gently, and Lena was very aware of Amélie’s body heat, her slow breath, and her cool gaze resting on Lena’s face.

There was a chance this was going to be a long night.


	16. Watch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Er.......better late than never?

Lena decided that she wasn’t going to be the first one to talk. She didn’t know exactly why Amélie wanted to stay up with her – or if Amélie had any ulterior motive at all. Lena couldn’t stop herself from making assumptions, but could keep herself from sharing them.

And Amélie probably wasn’t going to talk first. She wasn’t the type to volunteer her own motivations, or introspection, or even basic casual thoughts about the weather. So this was going to be a quiet few hours.

Fine.

That was fine.

“Do you think it’s going to take long to get back to Watchpoint?” Lena asked.

Amélie tilted her head to one side. “Ah. Well. That will depend on whether we run into a herd or not.”

“Yeah. Right.”

Lena was able to let three whole minutes of silence pass by.

“Not to keep kicking a dead horse or anything, but why did you kiss me?” Lena asked after those three minutes.

Amélie closed her eyes.

“You’re defeating the purpose of the watch,” Lena said.

“We already discussed this,” Amélie said.

“You didn’t give me much of an answer,” Lena reminded her.

Amélie had nothing to say to that.

Lena sighed. “Alright, then. If you really don’t want to revisit it then…OK. But you’re not an impulsive person, luv. I just didn’t think you would have kissed me if there wasn’t –” Lena cleared her throat, suddenly at a loss for words. “If there wasn’t something behind it. Besides, you volunteered to stay up with me.”

“I’m not tired,” Amélie said, opening her eyes.

“And is that all?”

“I…” Amélie trailed off, but like she was considering her words carefully. “No,” she said. “That is not all.”

Lena waited for Amélie to continue. Lena didn’t want to push her more than she already had. The clicks and whines of insects drifted out of the night, marking the minutes like the ticking of a hundred clocks. So maybe Amélie wasn’t going to talk, then. Lena decided to make her peace with that. Silence wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Sitting for a few hours, resting her battered body, listening to the night, next to…

A friend? Could Lena call Amélie a friend? She didn’t see why not. You couldn’t go through something like what had happened in Talon’s castle without forming some kind of bond. Lena and Amélie had fought alongside each other. They’d also fought _against_ each other, which Lena wasn’t about to forget any time soon, but even that could knit people together, if you took the right attitude at the end of things.

“I have…feelings,” Amélie said. “They are complicated.”

“Ah, yes,” Lena said. “I’ve heard that before. Once, right before she moved back to Portugal with a woman she met at a Tesco.”

“I – what?” Amélie asked.

“But enough about Janine,” Lena muttered. “What were you saying?”

Amélie shrugged. The light was fading so quickly now; Lena felt the gesture more than she saw it.

“I cut myself off from my feelings for quite a long time. That was…easier. I didn’t believe I’d get to have happy human interaction again. Now I’m less sure. I can’t simply turn this part of me back on like–” Amélie snapped her fingers. Then she sighed. “We also live in dangerous times,” she said. “So I don’t want to let something good go to waste, just because I’m afraid, because I risk losing it.”

“You won’t lose me,” Lena said, lowering her voice even more, though she didn’t have to. “I suppose I can’t control whether I get torn apart by the zombies. But even if bad things do happen. Even if you don’t feel _that_ way about me. I’m in your corner, luv.”

“And if I do feel…that way?”

Lena’s heart started to thunder. “I’d still be in your corner.”

Amélie’s hand brushed Lena’s in the dark. Amélie rested her hand there, and Lena smiled at the warmth of skin on skin, of the dry feeling of Amélie’s fingers. They sat in silence for the rest of the watch, Amélie occasionally tracing looping patterns on the back of Lena’s hand.


	17. Get Ready

Lena was having graphic fantasies about showers. Steaming showers where the hot water never ran out and the dirt on your body was power-washed down the drain. She remembered the days when she’d dump a gallon of product in her hair every morning to get it to stand up in sharp angles on its own. Lena experimentally ran her fingers over her scalp, and realized natural grease was accomplishing the same job.

They were almost to Watchpoint, though Watchpoint _didn’t_ have much in the way of running water or opportunities for long showers. Lena considered that the most profound injustice of the zombie apocalypse.

Along with all the mortal peril.

But Amélie was walking beside her. Amélie, walking easily through the woods like she was on a pleasant stroll in the park. Lena and Amélie hadn’t spoken much after the watch they spent together, but the silence was surprisingly comfortable. They were getting to know each other. They _knew_ each other. And people who knew each other could share tired glances, and smile at each other when Aleksandra made a joke, without wanting to exchange words first thing in the morning.

“Do you hear that?” Commander Morrison asked.

Lena saw Ana raise her one eye to the heavens. The closer they got to Watchpoint, the more paranoid Commander Morrison became, pausing at small noises and insisting everyone stop and prepare to draw their weapons.

“It’s all right, Jack,” Ana said.

He grunted gruffly, but started walking again.

Lúcio cleared his throat. “Uh, Commander? I think I hear something, too.”

Now, that gave them all pause.

Lena tilted her head and listened. The sound of footsteps had stopped, but she could still hear something distant and quiet. It reminded her of a train going by in the distance, but there were no trains around here…

“A herd,” Amélie said.

The words hit them like a collective death sentence. Ana had the grimmest expression Lena had ever seen, Lúcio and Aleksandra looked like they were going to be sick, and Amélie’s face had drained of color. They had all known what it was, of course, as soon as they stopped and listened, but hearing the words out loud solidified the threat.

“How big, do you think?” Aleksandra asked.

No one had an answer. How could they, as far away as they were?

“If it’s of any size, it could overwhelm Watchpoint’s gates,” Ana said.

The briefest moment passed, enough time for them all to adsorb the possibility.

“Get moving, everybody!” Commander Morrison barked.

They moved at double speed, charging through the trees until they reached the road. Dust clouds erupted under their boots. Watchpoint appeared in the distance, and Lena found herself elated and anxious at the sight.

The watch saw them coming down the road. Lena heard the thin sound of the boom box blasting, and she saw the wiggling grey shapes along Watchpoints fence start to creep away from the gate. The gate itself didn’t creak open until they were right on it. While they all waited for the gate to be high enough to go under, Ana shaded her eyes to look up into the guard tower. Fareeha must have been on duty, because Ana called up the tower in relieved Arabic.

“We have a situation!” Commander Morrison shouted, dunking under the gate. “Sound the alarm! Make sure everyone is where they’re stationed during the drills! Move, move, _move_!”

“Poor man,” Lena heard Ana sigh. “Only alive in a crisis…”

Lena ran for the barracks. Halfway there, she realized Amélie was following her. That made sense. Amélie didn’t have a set task at Watchpoint during emergencies. Maybe she’d had one, once upon a time, but there were probably more people at Watchpoint since Amélie had been there. And Commander Morrison had changed the protocol half a dozen times since Lena herself had arrived.

“What is the plan?” Amélie asked, drawing even with Lena.

“Ah, well, I’m lucky,” Lena said. “I have the dangerous job.”

 

Lena had a sidearm with her already, but it would be a waste of ammunition to use bullets alone on a herd. Firing a gun when you might be close to your friends wasn’t safe, either. And it was hard to stab a knife over and over again.

“There’s this bloke Torbjörn – have you met Torbjörn? Handy with metal,” Lena explained to Amélie, semi-breathless, scrabbling through her mess of belongings in her bunk. “He made some of us…ice axes!” Lena exclaimed, pulling the tool out from under a wadded blanket.

“It does not snow here,” Amélie said. “But I take it no ice has been harmed by that axe.”

Lena shrugged. She wasn’t sure if “axe” was the right word for this particular zombie-killing tool. It was a long wooden handle, double-headed with two sharp, curved picks on the end.

“Zombie One…” Lena said, swinging the axe slowly to the right. “…And then Zombie Two.” She swung it to the left.

Amélie wasn’t looking at her. She was looking at the corner of the room, where Lena had propped up the rifle Amélie had been carrying when Watchpoint captured her. Amélie hadn’t been allowed to keep it, obviously. But Lena was no sharpshooter; she wasn’t going to use it. Commander Morrison hadn’t given her any instructions.

Commander Morrison also might not want to Amélie to be so close to a firearm.

_To bloody hell with it._

Lena was surprised, and wasn’t surprised, at how automatically she walked over, grabbed the rifle, and handed it to Amélie.

“Let’s show the herd who’s boss, luv,” she said.

 

Lena hadn’t anticipated the waiting. She supposed, intellectually, that she’d known the herd was close, but not right on, Watchpoint. In her rush of adrenaline, she hadn’t connected the dots to realize that that meant even when all of Watchpoint grabbed their weapons and rushed to their battle stations, they would have at least twenty minutes before the zombies came within shooting distance.

And everyone was restless. Commander Morrison was pacing, never in one place for more than a handful of seconds. Ana wasn’t any better, which really worried Lena.

Amélie was going to climb up to the guard tower with Fareeha. Lena walked with her to the gate, and found she didn’t want to part with her when they got there.

Saying goodbye before a battle was supposed to be bad luck. So what was Lena supposed to say?

Amélie, as it turned out, opted for not saying anything. She kissed Lena, just on the cheek, but it sent waves of buoying warmth through Lena’s chest.

Without a word, Amélie turned and climbed up the ladder. Lena watched her go as long as she could take it, then joined Lúcio at the gate itself. A handful of them were going to go out to meet the herd head-on, whittle down the numbers before the zombies crushed their gates. Genji Hamada was there, and so was Brigitte with her heavy shield, and Reinhardt, and McCree, who was still wearing his cowboy hat.

“What are you smiling about?” Lúcio asked.

Lena hadn’t realized she was smiling. “Ah, nothing. Let’s kill some zombies!”


	18. Slip

Another clump of blood hit Lena’s forehead. Or maybe it was brain. She was moving too quickly to be able to tell, slamming her ice axe into one head, then another. The old zombies crumpled like rotten fruit. The fresher zombies splattered. Lúcio was cursing in Portuguese not far from Lena, the bright green of his shirt standing out like a beacon between the walking corpses. Commander Morrison was moving faster than either of them, shouting orders or encouragement between the rattle of his sidearm. No one could ever say Commander Morrison wasn’t hands on.

Occasionally, the _crack_ of a rifle sounded from overhead. The snipers were firing far into the herd – thinning out the crowd while keeping Watchpoint’s ground defense far out of range.

Sweat flattened Lena’s hair and glued her shirt to her back. Her body moved without her input, jumping and dodging on instinct and training. Part of her, in the back of her mind, was screaming and terrified, staring in horror at the gnashing teeth and grasping fingers. Most of her was filled with a strange sense of calm. She’d experienced the feeling a few times before, like when the jet she was test-flying malfunctioned, and when she was cornered by a zombie in an abandoned gas station after she twisted her ankle. Sometimes, things got so bad that the oncoming disaster ceased to be scary anymore.

Watchpoint had to keep the zombies away from the fence. If they were overrun, they’d have to pack up and go with whatever they were carrying. They might survive, they might all survive, but they’d just be surviving. Watchpoint, which had taken months or even years to build, would be destroyed.

Talon’s base was probably still smoldering into ash, but Dr. O’Deorain’s failed experiments were a poisoned death rattle that might still wipe out the one organized force for good in this region of the world. When the thought crossed Lena’s mind, cold fear burst in the pit of her stomach.

Rotting teeth snapped far too close to Lena’s face for comfort. She shook herself out of her own thoughts. Go back to the blissful flow of impending peril.

She slammed the zombie’s skull with her ice axe. Lena twisted her wrist, and bone and brain fragments went flying, freeing the ice axe for another blow. She hit the next zombie, turning away from the first one as it fell. Her right shoulder twinged. She ignored the pain. She kept moving, kept striking. The flow was back, and she knew she had to bury herself in it if she wanted to survive.

Suddenly, she was yanked backward, away from the press of zombies.

“Oxton!” Commander Morrison shouted in her ear, as he kept pulling her back. “Do you know how to use one of these?”

He was holding a grenade. Lena understood what he was getting at.

“Absolutely, sir.” She took it from his hands, and started to run. She skirted the thickest section of the zombies, until she was within throwing distance of a likely-looking cluster.

Lena took a deep breath. She didn’t have any time to waste hemming and hawing. She pulled the pin and threw the grenade as hard as she could into the zombies, then turned and ran away. The silent countdown before the grenade went off made Lena’s heard pound like a drum, the anticipation scraping at her nerves.

“Wait for it…” Lena whispered to herself.

The grenade went off, a shattering explosion that made the gunshots around her sound small. Unlike an explosion on a regular battlefield, the grenade was not followed by screams and cries of pain. There were a few yells of surprise from other fighters from Watchpoint, but the zombies only moaned and hissed like they always did.

The grenade probably hadn’t brained many zombies; grenades weren’t designed for that. But the grenade would shatter zombie legs and tear off zombie arms, slowing the herd down.

Commander Morrison came out nowhere and handed her another grenade. He kept one for himself. “Again. Flank them to the east; I’ll take the west.”

Lena ran and threw. This time, twin explosions, hers and the Commander’s, erupted like geysers of dirt and severed limbs.

Lena let herself have a little hope that the herd was slowing down. The grenades had put three big dents in the herd, and the zombies were stumbling and tripping over their fallen comrades. The flood to the fence was on its way to becoming a trickle.

Aleksandra appeared twenty feet away. She swung her own ice axe back and forth, the metal looking almost small and delicate in Aleksandra’s hands. A small cluster of zombies got too close to Aleksandra, and she swung her pink shotgun off her back and blasted them. The shattered zombies fell, and she brained them when they tried to crawl toward her.

“Good work!” Lena called.

Aleksandra gave her a wave, and went back to swinging her axe.

Sweat rolled down Lena’s forehead, and she had to wipe it away with her sleeve. The smell started to get to her. Usually, you stopped smelling the rot after a while. Now, Lena was choking on it, drowning in it. She took in a deep breath, and let out a single gag.

An ice axe crashed through the forehead of the closest zombie to Lena. She spun around, and saw Commander Morrison standing there, yanking his weapon out of the zombie.

“You’re done, Oxton,” he said. His tone was firm, but not unkind. “Fall back, get water, and breathe. Or else you’ll slip.”

“I haven’t slipped!” she protested.

“You will.” He put his hand on her shoulder, and turned her toward the gates. “I’ll cover you while you get back inside. Go.”

Lena wanted to argue, but she wasn’t standing in an environment where you could stand around and back talk your superior officer. She ran to the gates and slipped under the narrow gap they’d left. Thank Christ zombies couldn’t crawl.

Dr. Ziegler was waiting for her on the other side. She was still in spotless white, looking like an angel who’d floated down from heaven.

“Happy to see you still in one piece, Lena,” Dr. Ziegler said. Her expression was calm, but grim. “No bites? No cuts? Nothing broken?”

“I’m all right,” Lena said. “I just – Commander Morrison sent me back.”

Dr. Ziegler nodded, and handed Lena a canteen. “A good decision. Not because you’re not a good fighter,” she added quickly. “But it’s rough out there.”

Lena took a gulp of water, and frowned. “It’s rough everywhere now, Doctor.”

“There are still limits. I’ve seen people break before.” Dr. Ziegler looked sad, and somewhat older. “On battlefields before and after the zombies came. I am sure Commander Morrison has seen it too, even more than I have, and of any of us, he knows the warning signs.”

“I was showing warning signs?” Lena asked.

“It’s no criticism of your character,” Dr. Ziegler said gently. “Just…let it never be said Commander Morrison doesn’t watch out for his soldiers.”

Lena couldn’t disagree.

“I think you’re ready to go out again,” Dr. Ziegler said. She tapped Lena’s shoulder. “Stay alive, please.”

Lena forced a sunny smile. “That’s the plan.”


	19. After the Battle

The zombies kept coming.

But eventually there stopped being quite so many of them.

When Commander Morrison called for the final retreat, twilight was starting to bleed into night. All day, the fighters of Watchpoint had rotated on and off duty, thinning the herd and defending the gate. There had been a few close calls. A zombie’s reaching fingers had gotten tangled in Hana’s hair, and Brigitte had gone down hard with a twisted ankle. But they were all alive. And – the odd bump or bruise aside – no one was hurt. As the light disappeared from the sky, Commander Morrison called everyone inside the gate. Watchpoint had done what it had to do.

Dust caked Lena’s face, and her shoes, and her clothes. She’d spat out her fair share of dirt during the day. Blood and gunk were in her eyebrows. Her _eyebrows_.

When the gate was lowered for the final time, Lena collapsed onto the ground, and gave her aching back and legs a break. She lay down, and closed her eyes against the setting sun.

“What is the saying?” asked a voice above her. “You look like…something the cat dragged in.”

Lena opened one eye, and squinted up Amélie. “Hello to you, too.”

Amélie sat down next to her. “I’m glad you survived,” she said, the smile evident in her voice.

“How many did you get?” Lena asked.

“Too many to count.”

“And how did it feel?”

“Hm…very nice.”

Lena sat up. Amélie looked a lot less like she’d been through a slaughterhouse than Lena did, but the bags under her eyes were dark. Half of her purple ponytail had come loose, the uneven strands crammed behind her ears.

“We survived,” Lena said. “Watchpoint did. We survived and Talon didn’t.”

Amélie nodded. Then she paused, and tilted her head to one side. “Perhaps. But with Dr. O’Deorain and Reyes still alive, I don’t know how long Talon will stay dead.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, then.” Lena tried to keep the dismay out of her voice. She hadn’t exactly forgotten the baddies had gotten off, but there had been other pressing matters. Such as not dying. Or not letting brains drip into her eyes.

“Don’t worry about it now, _cherie_ ,” Amélie said quietly. “One problem at a time.”

Not far away, Genji Hamada had caught up with Dr. Ziegler. They were talking in low voices, and she seemed to be examining his artificial limbs. Brigitte was hopping around on one foot, mumbling Swedish curses that were probably about her injured ankle. Lúcio had collapsed into the grass. Fareeha was leaning against the guard tower with her eyes closed.

“Everyone.” Commander Morrison strode into view. He was acting like he hadn’t been running through zombies for hours. That was easier, with the visor, but Lena knew him well enough to see the cracks. He was still holding his sidearm, but his arms trembled slightly. His voice was lower and rawer.

The assembled personnel of Watchpoint turned to their leader, but not many of them moved to stand up. Lena was pretty sure he didn’t expect them to.

“We’ve been through a trial,” Commander Morrison said. “But we did make it through. All of you, take a rest if you can. Only the watch schedule will resume as planned for the next twelve hours. After that, we’ll have a base-wide debriefing, and then the schedule will continue normally. If you’re injured, get patched up,” he added, like an afterthought.

“Inspiring speech,” Lena muttered. “‘Good job, but remember that you have work tomorrow.’”

Amélie snorted.

“Dismissed!” Commander Morrison barked.

The Watchpoint personnel got to their feet, or started walking to the barracks. Hana helped Brigitte hobble over to Dr. Ziegler.

Lena groaned. “I can’t make it,” she said to Amélie. “You’re going to have to carry me.”

“ _Désolé,_ but that isn’t going to happen.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“I’m saying you’re heavier than my rifle.”

“You’re calling me fat,” Lena grumbled. She stood up, and stretched.

She looked over her shoulder. A dozen zombies she could see were up against the fence, pressed against the metal, clawing and moaning with that empty look in their eyes.

“They just keep coming,” Lena whispered.

She wasn’t sure if she was saying it to herself or to Amélie, but Amélie didn’t respond. What could be said, really?

 

Lena spent a good hour scrubbing her skin raw, until all she could remember smelling was the harsh fake-lavender chemical scent of the soap. After she changed into fresh clothes, she felt like a new woman, and barely even minded her blisters. For the time being.

A handful of the people of Watchpoint needed medical attention. Most of it was minor – bruises, cuts that needed stitches. About a third of the base was wide-awake post battle, and had the energy to bloody celebrate. Aleksandra and Torbjorn had revealed the stash of hooch they’d been hiding in the mess hall, and they were already arranging a tipsy arm wrestling tournament.

On another night Lena might have joined in. She would have risked burning her taste buds off with hooch, or having her arm wrenched out of her socket. But she was like the rest of Watchpoint: exhausted.

Lena and Amélie walked to the barracks together. Lena lay down on her bunk, and Amélie lay down with her. Lena wrapped her arms around her, too tired for hesitation or awkwardness. Neither of them said a word, but Amélie’s chest was rising and falling with the deep breaths of sleep within minutes. Lena followed right behind her.


	20. Restlessness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient with me during this patchy update schedule.
> 
> Happy reading!

Lena woke up before Amélie, which required some awkward gymnastics to climb out of the bunk without disturbing her. After Lena pulled on her boots, she stopped to watch Amélie, who was curled up in the fetal position on top of the sheets. They’d both fallen asleep in their clothes – clothes for the apocalypse, with suspicious stains and pockets on the outside. Lena had to admit it wasn’t the most romantic scene, but as she watched Amélie sleep – just long enough so that it wasn’t creepy – she got a little thrill in her stomach.

As she’d fallen asleep the previous night, and as she’d crept into consciousness that morning, a plan for the future had crept into Lena’s mind. She didn’t know if she should wait to talk it over with Amélie before exploring it. Or whether it was a good idea at all.

But Lena didn’t want to stay in the uneasy quiet of the barracks. Well, quiet except for Aleksandra’s rumbling snores or Fareeha’s multilingual sleep muttering.

Lena went outside.

The air smelled like dirt and morning dew, with only a hint of distant death. She walked to the meeting hall, and wasn’t at all surprised to find it empty except for Commander Morrison.

He was pacing. The restlessness hurt to watch. Lena cleared her throat.

“Er…Commander Morrison?” Lena asked. “I think I have an idea.”

 

Lena had expected Commander Morrison to hear her out, then dismiss her to confer with Ana while grumbling over a map. Instead, he sat her down in the meeting hall, and brought Ana in. Then he sent Lena to go get Amélie.

Amélie was still asleep, scowling deeply in her dreams. Lena felt bad shaking her awake. She started out gently, but had to abandon that to rouse her.

“ _Merde_ …” Amélie rolled over and rubbed her eyes. “What’s going on? Who is attacking us?”

“Um, nobody,” Lena said. “We have to talk to the Commander.”

Amélie blinked several times, tiredness still heavy in her eyes. “Why?”

“Because I already did. And maybe I should have said something to you first, but–”

“Can you slow down, Lena, please?”

Lena nodded. Amélie sat up, swung her legs over the edge of the bunk, and started fumbling toward her boots.

“We should go after Dr. O’Deorain,” Lena said.

Amélie didn’t have an immediate reaction. She loosed the laces on her boots, and put them on. Left foot. Right foot.

“All of Watchpoint?” Amélie asked at last.

“No,” Lena said. “Just us. Probably.”

Amélie didn’t answer that right away, either.

“Are you OK about this?” Lena asked.

“I’m fine,” Amélie said quickly, quietly.

“You don’t have to be,” Lena said. “And – er – if you don’t want –”

“I don’t,” Amélie said. “But if someone from Watchpoint is seeking her, I want to be a part of it. And if I’m going on that journey, I certainly want to be with you.”

Lena’s throat was tight. How funny.

“We, um, the Commander is waiting.” Lena turned to walk back to the meeting hall, but she could have sworn she glanced a smile on Amélie’s face.


	21. Honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Almost 2000 hits! You guys are awesome!

Lena felt like she’d jumped into the deep end of a swimming pool only to find out she’d quite forgotten how to swim. She and Amélie had spent two busy weeks making plans, preparing, packing, unpacking, and repacking supplies. The situation was distant, a hypothetical, up until the minute Lena and Amélie walked to the gate to leave Watchpoint.

When Lena had suggested the plan to Commander Morrsion, she hadn’t thought she and Amélie would be the only ones to go. She knew the Commander wouldn’t leave on the mission; he wouldn’t abandon Watchpoint for that long. But she’d thought someone else would come with them to find Dr. O’Deorain. Aleksandra, Lúcio, even Ana.

“No,” Commander Morrison had said when Lena brought up the subject. “We can’t spare too many pairs of hands.”

Lena didn’t want to argue with the Commander, but couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “But what if–?” she began, feeling like a child.

“And a bigger party could attract more attention,” Commander Morrison said, like she hadn’t spoken.

Lena had kept her mouth shut after that. Commander Morrison wasn’t going to change his mind. Besides, Lena didn’t want to drag another friend into her dangerous mission if it wasn’t necessary.

The time to leave had come quickly. Lena ran through her mental checklist again and again, sure there was another task to be done, another step to be completed before starting the trip. She came up empty every time.

“How are you feeling?” Lena asked Amélie, trying a smile. The gate drew closer with every step.

“You’re worried,” Amélie said as an answer.

“Oi! I asked _you_. Besides, I – I’m _not_ –”

“You pretend to be cheerful when you’re nervous,” Amélie said.

“Sometimes I’m truly cheerful.”

“The difference is easier to tell than you think it is.”

Lena crossed her arms. The movement made the straps of her heavy knapsack dig into her shoulders, but she needed the emphasis.

“You should be worried,” Amélie continued. “We both should be. I am sure Dr. O’Deorain has another base elsewhere. And perhaps backup.”

“Isn’t that what we’re hoping?”

“I suppose.”

Lena chewed on her bottom lip. She wondered if she should try fake cheerfulness again.

“This is necessary,” Amélie said. “You know that. As do I.”

Lena nodded. “So let’s go,” she said.

She walked to the base of the guard tower. “Fire it up, Lúcio!” she called.

“Good luck, you guys!” she heard him yell, right before the boom box turned on full blast. “ _Boa viagem_!”

The herd’s legacy was a thicker crowd of zombies against Watchpoint’s fence. The links bulged inward, and a revolting sprinkle of fingers had been left around the inside perimeter of Watchpoint, but the fence held. Commander Morrison had doubled the personnel assigned to that patrol, taking the extra hands from kitchen duty. Lena had had to remind herself the additional security was worth the moroseness when Watchpoint tucked half-baked rolls and lukewarm soup at the end of a long day.

Several extra minutes passed waiting for the zombies to draw away from the gate. Even so, Lena worried they were cutting it close. By the time the bulk of the crowd had left the path away from Watchpoint, a few zombies had lost interest and were drifting back to where they’d come from.

Fareeha had had the same thought. “I’m playing it safe, you two! Hurry!”

She cranked the gate just high enough to allow Lena and Amélie to duck under. Lena and Amélie kept moving, starting from a running crouch, weaving through the stragglers zombies. They didn’t bother to brain or fight the zombies they encountered, just pushed past quickly enough to keep themselves from being bitten. When they were a decent distance away, they slowed to a light jog, and an energy-conserving stroll after that. Since Lena had arrived at Watchpoint, Commander Morrison had made all base personnel practice getting through crowds of zombies of varying thicknesses without being bitten. During each round of the drill, most of the base personnel had to pretend to be the zombies. That job was a lot more fun than being the poor sap who had to risk getting poked in the eye while pushing through a forest of limbs.

Lena looked over her shoulder. Watchpoint’s fence and buildings were still large, dark shapes, but Fareeha’s silhouette was barely distinguishable on the top of the guard tower, and Lúcio was hidden by the mass of zombies.

“I’ve lived back there for more than a year, you know,” Lena said, turning back to Amélie. “The least chaotic place I ever saw in the apocalypse. What a world we’re in, eh? Where Watchpoint is at the bottom end of the chaos bell curve.”

“Would you judge me if I said I was relieved?” Amélie said.

“Relief? Oh, well, I s’pose you must have…mixed feelings about Watchpoint.”

“Chaos has honesty,” Amélie said. She tilted her head, as if she was looking over the forest ahead to their intended destination, klicks and klicks eastward.


	22. Dynamite

Life at Watchpoint wasn’t cushy or easy. Lena had been a military woman, back when there were real, full militaries left. She hadn’t gone through life expecting things to be cushy and easy.

But as Lena and Amélie reached their third day of walking and dodging zombies during the day, and sleeping on the hard ground in a flimsy tent during the night, Lena realized Watchpoint had actually been quite nice. They had bunks. They had a kitchen. They had _hot water and soap_.

The morning of the third day, Lena hoisted her pack onto her back with a loud groan that was only half-exaggerated. “I’m mostly bruise by now!”

Amélie shot her an annoyed look. “If you complain too loudly, the zombies will hear you.”

“It’s worth it,” Lena said.

Amélie just rolled her eyes, but Lena caught the hint of a smile.

She wasn’t sure how she stood with Amélie. Things seemed to have been going well back at Watchpoint, but now Lena was much less certain. Amélie had been quieter the past few days, and distant. Lena hadn’t said anything. She didn’t want to pressure Amélie. They were going after Dr. O’Deorain, after all, and if things went well, Amélie would once again be face to face with the woman who had captured her and killed her husband.

So Lena wasn’t going to be pressuring Amélie to define their relationship. Or asking if they had a relationship at all.

Lena checked their map, but she already knew that, if they kept up their current pace, they’d reach Dr. O’Deorain’s first possible backup base in the afternoon. On paper, Lena was ready whether they found the mad scientist or not. But in a small, secret part of her, Lena hoped they wouldn’t encounter Dr. O’Deorain on their first stop. Lena was dreading facing her again, and whatever forces Talon had in reserve. But if Lena and Amélie never found her again, the mission was a failure, and anyone else stood little chance of succeeding. Finding Dr. O’Deorain, not finding Dr. O’Deorain…both eventualities were unattractive in different ways. Lena knew whichever happened, she’d be dealing with something grim.

 

The sun was high overhead, but the heat wasn’t oppressive. The year was starting to slide downhill, and Lena was grateful for the lowering temperatures. Winter would be a mixed blessing, as it was every year during the zombie apocalypse. A good freeze would slow most zombies down, and stop plenty of them in their tracks, but blizzards and cold winds made survival hard for the living humans in a world where electricity and central heating were in short supply.

“We’re almost there,” Lena said out loud, though Amélie had to know that as well as she did.

Amélie nodded, and kept her eyes fixed on the horizon.

“Are you OK?” Lena asked.

Amélie tilted her head to one side. “I’ll be functional,” she said.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’ll be OK,” Amélie said.

“Wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

Lena and Amélie spun around to stare at the figure walking out of the shadows of the trees. The woman’s steps were slow, and deliberate. The first thing Lena noticed when she came into the light was her bright white hair, and the cowboy hat sitting at a dramatic angle on her head.

Lena’s chief concern, however, was the rifle the woman was pointing right at Amélie.

“You ladies have made a mistake,” the woman said. She had a rugged American accent. “You’ve wandered into the wrong territory, and I’ll be havin’ your names and what business you think you have here.” Lena noticed the woman had dynamite strapped to her leg. _Dynamite_ , of all things.

“Listen, miss, we don’t mean you any harm,” Lena said, raising her arms above her head.

“Are you Talon?” Amélie’s words were quick and sharp, though she raised her arms as well.

That was the wrong question. The woman narrowed her eyes, which were red. “You came here looking for Talon?”

“Only to bloody fight them!” Lena said. “We burned down their old base, and came out here to look for stragglers, didn’t we?”

The woman didn’t lower her rifle, but her shoulders relaxed slightly.

“You still haven’t told me who you are,” she said.

“I’m Lena Oxton,” Lena said. “RAF cadet…formerly.”

“Amélie Lacroix,” Amélie said.

“We’re from Watchpoint,” Lena said. “Have you…heard of it?”

The woman finally lowered her rifle. “Well, well, well,” she said. “Watchpoint. Two of you work with a man named Jesse McCree?”

Lena hesitated, then nodded. “He’s still there. Nice guy.”

The woman grunted.

“Do you…know him?” Lena asked.

“We got history.”

“What kind of history?”

“The kind of history ain’t no one else’s business.”

Lena looked at Amélie who gave an elegant shrug.

“The name’s Ashe,” said the woman. She extended her hand to Amélie, then Lena. Ashe had a firm, calloused grip. “I don’t know what exactly you’re looking for out here, but you haven’t found it.”

“So we will be moving on,” Amélie said.

“Not so fast,” Ashe said. “If your business had something to do with Talon, I’m not about to just let you walk away.”

“Do they still have a base here?” Lena asked.

Ashe scowled. “No more questions. I’m taking you to meet a friend.”

Amélie’s eyebrows shot up, and she crossed her arms. “Oh, are you?”

The rifle in Ashe’s hands twitched. “I could do this the hard way.”

Lena and Amélie looked each other in the eyes.

Asha gave a scoffing laugh. “C’mon, guys. Come with me, and we’ll tell you where to go looking for Talon.”

“We?” Lena asked.

“Yeah. Jean-Baptiste is _not_ going to like you.”


	23. Ashe and Jean-Baptiste

Lena was disappointed that Talon’s backup base was not another castle. The building was wide and boxy and surrounded by asphalt, like an airplane hangar. Or an Asda.

At least, Amélie had been under the impression Talon had a backup base here. Lena had growing confidence that that wasn’t the case. Ashe, with her cowboy hat and her rifle on her shoulder, didn’t seem like Talon’s crowd.

“Hey, Jean-Baptiste!” Ashe shouted, cupping her hand around her mouth. “We got visitors! Don’t worry; I don’t think they bite!”

The hangar-style doors of the building slid open, and a dark-skinned man with muscled arms walked out. He gave Ashe a stern look.

“Stop making so much noise,” he said, in an accent Lena couldn’t place. “We don’t have unlimited ammunition here.”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport,” Ashe said. She jerked her head at Lena and Amélie. “They say they’re looking for Talon.”

Jean-Baptiste’s gaze became suspicious. “And you brought them right to our doorstep?”

“Nah, they’re enemies of Talon. And therefor our friends, I suppose. I thought you could give them some information about how to find what they’re looking for.”

Jean-Baptiste studied Lena and Amélie.

“Hi,” Lena said. He didn’t seem like he was going to demand they leave.

“Why do you want to find Talon?” Jean-Baptiste asked.

“Because they killed my husband,” Amélie said. “They kidnapped me. They held others hostage so I would do their bidding.”

“We’re from Watchpoint,” Lena said.

Jean-Baptiste nodded. “I’ve heard of it. I thought it might just be a rumor.”

“It’s not a rumor.”

“Ashe led us to believe you could help us find Talon,” Amélie said. “Was that true or not?”

Jean-Baptiste tilted his head to one side. “Yes. I can help you.”

“That’s fantastic!” Lena said. “Where are they?”

“Wait,” Amélie said, holding up one hand. “ _Why_ can you help us?”

Jean-Baptiste gave her a hard look, but didn’t answer.

“Ah, hell, don’t be _shy_ , for God’s sake.” Ashe strode up to Jean-Baptiste, her rifle in her hands.

“We don’t know these women,” Jean-Baptiste said.

“We’re who we say we are,” Lena said.

“That’s what he’s worried about,” Ashe said. “See, Jean-Baptiste here used to work for Talon.”

All four of them quickly fell silent. Lena felt Amélie stiffen next to her. Ashe was cool as ever, watching their response. Jean-Baptiste was more agitated. He watched Lena and Amélie, but Lena saw him throw a short glare Ashe’s way.

“I left them a long time ago,” Jean-Baptiste said at last. “Talon has been around for years. Their love of disaster runs far deeper than the zombies, if you can believe it.”

“Oh, we do,” Lena said.

“Once, Talon was able to make themselves seem noble, or at least…useful. I worked in medicine, in Haiti. I caught their notice. I thought I was helping them develop strategies to disseminate medical aid throughout urban regions. They were instead perfecting biological warfare. Blood was soaking my hands before I realized what was happening.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, ain’t it tragic,” Ashe said. “But you saw the light. Now let me explain how I fit into the story. See, I used to run a gang around here. Around a lotta places, actually, but this area used to be our territory.” Ashe made a sweeping gesture, and Lena caught a glint in her eyes. Maybe it was old pride. Maybe it was old rage. “Until Talon decided they wanted to set up a base here, and slaughtered everyone but me.”

“We found our partnership would have…advantages,” Jean-Baptiste said, shrugging.

“We drove ’em out,” Ashe said.

“The two of you took down a whole Talon base by yourself?” Lena asked.

“A _reserve_ base,” Amélie reminded her quietly. “I doubt it had the staff or security of O’Deorain’s castle.”

“I had a bunch of small bombs, and Jean-Baptiste knew their weak points,” Ashe said.

“It was a decent combination,” Jean-Baptiste said.

“ _Very_ decent indeed.”

“All of this is entertaining,” Amélie said. “But we have come here for a reason.”

Ashe and Jean-Baptiste glanced at each other.

“May I speak to you in private?” Jean-Baptiste asked.

“What’s going on?” Lena asked.

Ashe acted as if she hadn’t spoken. “Fine. Make it fast.”

The walked to the threshold of the building, just out of earshot. Lena strained to hear what they were saying, but couldn’t quite make out the words. Judging by Amélie’s scowl, she couldn’t, either. Besides, if Ashe and Jean-Baptiste were plotting against Lena and Amélie, they could have been a lot more subtle about it.

Ashe was not a subtle person. The conversation started out subdued enough, but Jean-Baptiste said something that sent Ashe into an angry burst of fast words and wide hand gestures. He remained calm, but her jaw clenched, and she stuck one finger in his face.

She relented, though, and stomped past Lena and Amélie.

“Go on, then,” she said, raising both hands. “You damn well know my feelings on the matter!” she shouted over her shoulder at Jean-Baptiste.

He frowned at her as she walked away, but didn’t say anything or try to stop her.

“So? Will you tell us where to find Talon?” Lena asked.

“I will tell you where I believe they would have gone,” Jean-Baptiste said. “But we won’t be leaving this base to help you.”

Lena crossed her arms. They hadn’t exactly asked for Jean-Baptiste’s help, but… “Why the strong stance, then?”

“If you drive them from their current location, or if you fail, they could head our way,” Jean-Baptiste said. “I don’t want to take the risk that they’ll slip through our fingers again.”

“Ashe did not like it,” Amélie said.

“No. She didn’t. She’s out for Talon’s blood, and wants to hit them when they’re weak.”

“Well, you’re hardly her boss, now, are you?” Lena pointed out.

“Of course I’m not. But I wouldn’t have a hope of holding off any attack on my own. I asked her to stay, to repay me for my help avenging her gang.”

“She clearly took it well,” Amélie said.

Jean-Baptiste cringed, but said nothing.

Lena turned to Amélie. “If we find Talon, it’ll just be us.”

“That was the plan from the start, _non_?”

“But Talon’s been through more attacks than we thought,” Lena said. “We could scare them off, and then we’ll never find them.”

“What’s the alternative? Do nothing?”

“We could go back to Watchpoint,” Lena said. “Get reinforcements.”

“And who knows what Talon will get up to during that time,” Amélie said.

Lena nodded. “I s’pose we don’t exactly have to storm the fort,” she said. “If we’re careful, we could just get the lay of the land.”

“Ah. That worked so well last time,” Amélie said.

“Are you making a joke?”

Amélie shrugged.

“Then we’re going alone,” Lena said. “Where’s Talon?” she asked Jean-Baptiste.

He nodded. “Do you have a map?”


	24. Slope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that updating has slowed down recently. Life has been very...*life* lately.

Lena slipped, and caught herself on the rocks. The sharp stone cut into her hand, and she hissed in pain. When she straightened, blood was welling up on her palm. Lena swore.

“Let me see it,” Amélie said immediately. She took Lena’s hand, her fingers sliding smoothly over Lena’s wrist.

“I’ll be fine,” Lena said, but didn’t pull away. “Remind me, who has the bandages?”

Amélie glanced down at the strap of her own backpack while she considered. “I believe you do.”

Lena started to ask Amélie would get them out for her, but Amélie was already reaching for the outside pocket on Lena’s own bag.

A disinfectant wipe and a wad of tape and gauze later, Lena was bandaged up. She took a moment to consider the drying fiber of the disinfectant wipe, the flimsy paper wrapping of the gauze. Once upon a time, they had all been slapped together on churning assembly lines in busy factories. Those factories were empty now, or, worse, full of the walking dead. The manufacturing that held up the big and little things of the world had fallen away after the apocalypse. The end of consumerism as humans knew it came with a great whopping silver lining for the planet, Lena was well aware, but the very fact of the end of the era sparked a little melancholy.

“Can you continue?” Amélie asked.

“Oh, right. Sure, luv,” Lena said, snapping herself out of her mired thoughts. “Let’s keep going.”

Thanks to Jean-Baptiste, Lena and Amélie knew exactly where to look for Talon’s back-up headquarters. The walk wasn’t easy. The walk wasn’t a walk at all, more of a climb. They had to clamber up a steep and rocky slope to approach the base in its blind spot.

They weren’t using the cover of night this time. They hadn’t seen many zombies in the area, but that was probably just a matter of time. Talon’s noise and activity would draw a cluster like Watchpoint’s soon enough, and there would be even more once Talon started releasing their turned human subjects. The mental image made Lena want to throw up.

She slowed down when they reached the top of the slope. She chose her steps carefully. Amélie had more grace, her movements smooth. She hadn’t fallen once.

Amélie used the scope of her rifle to peer across the hills and grass at the Talon building. Lena didn’t have as good a view as she did, but her pilot’s eyes could give her a decent look. This was the ugliest Talon base yet, she decided. The stone of the outer walls was drab and sandy. The barbed-wire fence was twice as high as Watchpoint’s, the wire black and tangled.

“See anything out of the ordinary?” Lena asked.

“No signs of life,” Amélie said. “Or undeath,” she added, with a slight shrug.

“Are they even in there?”

“I suppose they might not be,” Amélie said, her voice tight.

Worry burrowed through Lena. It _was_ possible, wasn’t it, that Amélie and Jean-Baptiste had both been wrong, that they wouldn’t find Talon at all, that it would slip through their grasp completely. Watchpoint could end up right back where it started, with its greatest enemy looming simply _out there somewhere_.

“Ah…” Amélie sighed, and leaned forward. “ _Et voila_.”

Electricity shot through Lena’s spine. “What is it?”

“Reyes. I am, for once, glad to see him.”

Lena resisted the urge to grab the sniper scope and see for herself. “What’s he doing, then?”

“He’s outside the base.”

“Is he coming toward us?”

“No. He’s walking the perimeter.”

“Can I…?”

Amélie passed her the scope. Lena looked through the lens, and found a black spot moving in front of the brown walls of the base. Reyes, the sun glinting off the leather he was still wrapping himself in. Lena remembered how the zombies had parted around him, like even zombies were too afraid to come near him. She shivered.

“They may still be setting up,” Amélie said. “I know it has been some time, but Dr. O’Deorain is nothing if not a perfectionist.”

“Wouldn’t want to rush diabolical plans…” Lena muttered.

“Speaking of plans, what ideas do you have?” Amélie asked. “Talon’s been diminished, but I don’t think we can face Reyes ourselves.”

Lena watched Reyes stride back and forth, and frowned deeply. “Do you know, I believe I _do_ have a plan.”


	25. Herding

“Good zombie…” Lena said under her breath. “Goooood zombie…be nice…”

The zombie had been moving along at a slow shuffle, but Lena knew from experience that most zombies could pick up a little speed if they wanted to.

She had to strike a delicate balance. If she walked too far away, the zombie might lose interest and wander off. If she moved too close, she’d put herself in danger.

“C’mon,” she muttered.

The zombie followed. Occasionally, she had to speak at full volume, or clap her hands a few times to keep its attention. She hoped Amélie was having better luck. The closer they got to Talon’s base, the easier this would be. But it would also be far more dangerous.

Another zombie edged out from behind a tree, drawn by the noise. Lena ignored her spike of anxiety, and reminded herself this was a good thing.

“All right. You, too, ugly!” Lena called to the new arrival.

This one had a curtain of stringy grey hair all around its head. It was faster than the first zombie, and trundled right toward Lena.

She cursed, and picked up the pace. In her haste, she accidentally crashed into a dead branch, the rattle and snap of the twigs and leaves like a drumroll. A third zombie appeared, missing its nose and half its fingers.

Three zombies. Not a bad start.

 *

Lena had worked up to a light jog, and was leading at least ten zombies through the rocks and trees. She had to admit this was almost fun, running cross-country while keeping the zombies at a safe distance. The meeting place they’d agreed on was just ahead… _there_.

Lena saw Amélie about 50 meters away, bounding like a gazelle, followed by grey splotches that had to be the zombies Amélie had gathered.

Lena signaled to the north. She and Amélie turned in that direction, drawing closer to each other at the half-speed they were using to keep the zombies together.

When they were close enough, Lena gave Amélie a wave. Amélie just nodded. Her face was getting red. Lena got the impression Amélie was more of a sprinter, and wasn’t overly pleased with a long jog through nature.

Talon’s base appeared on the horizon. This was where they had to be careful.

“Let’s get out of here!” Lena shouted.

She and Amélie picked up speed, then cut hard to the right, ducking into the trees where they hopeful wouldn’t be spotted by Talon’s sentries.

“I can’t believe we’ve done this,” Amélie gasped, coming to a halt and leaning against a tree trunk.

“It’ll be fine,” Lena said. “There aren’t enough zombies there to form a full herd. You think they’ll come out to investigate?”

Amélie nodded.

Lena put her hands on her hips. “We’d better get moving, then.”

They started running again, and Lena had to slow down so Amélie wouldn’t lag behind. They took a roundabout route, heading back toward the slope where they’d done reconnaissance. If this didn’t work, they were back to square one, and they’d have wasted a full day.

By the time Lena and Amélie reached their bivouac, the zombies were squirming outlines in the distance. However, their jerky movements were slowly and surely moving toward Talon’s base.

“ _Yes!_ ” Lena forced herself not to jump up and down. Amélie smiled.

“It’s just a waiting game now,” Lena said. “Shall we take turns being on watch?”

“Yes. Though I doubt it will be a long wait.” Amélie’s smiled slid into a frown as she once again used her scope to watch the base. “Reyes is the type of man who will pursue a problem as soon as he sees it.”

“That’s considerate.” Lena settled onto a rock. She shrugged her pack off her shoulders, and examined the supplies inside. She had a bit less than half of her rations left, and Amélie was probably in the same boat. Hunting and gathering wasn’t out of the question, but it was time-consuming and unreliable. They would have to turn back soon, or take a risk by continuing after they’d used up the food they’d brought from Watchpoint.

Despite the fact that she was sitting on her arse while someone else was keeping watch, Lena was hit with a feeling of danger and instability. This could be the end of Talon, and that was why Watchpoint was out here in the first place. It was why _Lena_ was here in the first place.

“There’s movement,” Amélie said.

Lena jumped to her feet. “What’s going on?”

“I think I see Reyes. He’s leaving the building…” Amélie was quiet for a long time, and Lena didn’t know if she was watching or steadying herself. “The gate of the fence is opening. He’s departing.”

“Let’s go.”


End file.
